The History of a Blessed Event
by OverlyDramatic
Summary: Things in life don't always turn out the way we want. But sometimes the past has a way of coming back to stir up trouble at the most inopportune of moments.
1. A Party to Attend

Well, I'm back. After a fashion. Sorry for the long draught, but school sucked my brainpower and I couldn't write. I also tried my hand at making videos, because it's fun but doesn't require quite the inspiration writing does. But I've decided to try again, so let's hope this goes okay. I'm not sure about this (am I ever?) because I haven't written in so long and I'm trying a new perspective, one I usually avoid at all costs. Hope you guys like it anyway. Enjoy.

**WARNING**: Wow, doesn't this look important? This really is an inconvenient time to start writing again, because the rough draft for the bane of my existence is due Monday and Tuesday I leave for my Senior Europe trip for two weeks. Luckily I have Spring Break when I get back so I should be able to write another few chapters, but anyone who doesn't want to wait that long would be advised to wait until I get back to read this. hums Jeopardy theme music You know the curiosity is eating at you . . . kay, maybe I'm being conceited, lol.

**Disclaimer: Short-term memory loss? That's okay, I totally understand. Wait, what happened?**

_Since I'm dating your stepbrother, we're practically family_.

The noise of the room demanded attention, but for some reason those words stayed sharp, morphing the amiable chatter to a dull murmur. I could hear her voice, too—steadier, older—but it barely registered as those words stayed fresh in my mind. I hadn't thought of them in years; actually, I'm surprised I remembered them at all. I'm not exactly known for remembering details unless it benefits me in some way. But I could still see it, sitting at the dinner table; her voice, flippant and confident, sealing my fate. But it doesn't bother me like I thought it would; I'm not even phased to remember her presumption and dismissal. That's just part of her and there's no reason to change it. What bothers me is that word. _Family_. That word, and all the thoughts it brings when I look back on the scene.

_How did it come to this_? I wonder with a mental groan. _How did I let this happen? _Part of me, the smarter part, thinks of hockey and parties; of pranks and bullying my little brother; of late nights and girls and freedom. The rest of me thinks of something else.

"Derek?" Her voice, soft and questioning with a slight undertone of admonishment, breaks through her other words, the ones on a loop in my brain. I glance up and bite back my annoyance. I hate when she chastises me; it just doesn't sound right without all the yelling and frustration.

"What?" I ask, as softly as I could. As softly as I could manage to.

She gave me an ironic look, quirking her mouth and raising an eyebrow. "Don't be rude," she demanded through a smile, gesturing to the crowd before shaking her head. I looked around the room with dread, trying not to sigh at the sight of all those people waiting to talk to us. Usually I liked being the center of attention. Usually. She turned back to clasp the hand of a redhead a little older than ourselves. I didn't recognize her, though I probably should. I think she's in our party. The nameless woman shifted, clutching my arm and smiling brightly; I gave her a smooth smile and she moved on. Turning from the man she was talking to, the attractive woman to my right smiled giddily and slipped her arm around my waist; I put an arm over her shoulder and she leaned in, staying put rather than shifting back to the guests as I would have liked. I've never appreciated that sort of thing where people could see. My discomfit grew as the man gave me a wink and moved on, so I shifted my arm lazily and glanced back down the line. It seemed to be thinning, I noted with some relief. End in sight, I set myself to muddle through a little while longer. Just as I thought I was free, I caught sight of a trio heading toward us and barely contained a groan.

"Mom, Dad," the blonde beside me greeted, forcing a pleased note in her voice. From their faces, only I had noticed. It wasn't that she disliked her parents, they just didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things. Including me. The thought made me grin and I stood straighter as her father clasped her hand and her mother moved closer.

"Hello, honey," her mother greeted, and her hand dropped from my side as the women moved into a hug. I felt myself stand easier.

"Jenny!" she exclaimed, finally noticing the other woman. "How are you?"

"I haven't seen you in forever!" the woman said in place of a response, hugging her excitedly. I hadn't ever met her cousin, but I recognized her. Tall, slender and brunette with those fashion-whatever glasses, her face was nearly identical to her cousin's. She was hot, in a crazy sort of way. Probably would have dated her if given the opportunity.

"And you must be Derek," Jenny said, turning to me with an appraising gaze. She didn't bother to introduce herself, and I was glad. _Finally, someone normal_. Looking me up and down a few times, she broke out into an amused smirk, laughing slightly.

"I approve," she declared, turning to her cousin. Glancing back, her eyes traced me. "I definitely approve," she added, voice lilting into a facetious sort of suggestiveness. I smirked and she laughed. "You'll definitely bring some good genes to this family." She continued, making some joke about the difficulty of adding to their genetic pool, but I wasn't paying attention anymore. It was that word again; that damn word. Pictures were flooding my mind . . . _Since I'm dating your stepbrother_ . . . I wanted them to stop, but I knew they wouldn't . . . _we're practically family . . ._. They never did.

"I've got to go," I said quickly, moving past the bewildered faces.

"Derek?" my fiancé asked, clutching my arm and watching me worriedly. I shrugged her off and darted past her relatives.

"I'm sorry, Kendra," I said over my shoulder. Then I pushed through the back door, crossed the empty back lot to my car, and drove away.

**BBBBBBBBBBBBB**

Kay. There it is. I've never tried a fic where they're adults, but for some reason the line and a sentence or two to go with it popped into my head. Honestly, I have no idea where this is going. A thought or two, maybe, but no real idea. What a surprise. I'll get it going somewhere, though. And hopefully in less chapters than my last beast of a story. Much shorter, if I can control myself. We'll see. I know the marriage thing is overdone, but that's what my brain came up with. And hey, there's probably a reason it's overdone. Or maybe not. Let me know what you think, so I'll know if I should scrap it. Thanks.


	2. Insane Women

I really hope this doesn't end up all dramatic and cheesy. It seems rather different from my last chapter fic, though because of a change in perspective, inspiration or style, I couldn't say. Hopefully it will pick up a bit as I continue.

Note: I'm not really sure why I wrote the first chapter in first person, because I don't really like it as much, but the rest of the fic will be in third person. If you think it's annoying to switch, let me know and I'll change the first chapter.

**Disclaimer: Why yes, I am delusional. You too? Just checking.**

Derek trudged through the vacant corridors of the high school, wandering aimlessly. It wasn't the first time, though he tried to keep it from becoming habitual. There was something almost brainless about the empty building, and he found it was a nice place to go when he wanted to avoid something.

He didn't miss the irony of the place: he used to do everything in his power to evade the cold brick structure, and now here he was, breaking and entering. It just seemed disconnected from the rest of the world, totally separate from his adult life. He didn't feel the pressure he felt everywhere else; any vague traces he might have felt here had disappeared with graduation.

Rounding the corner, he seated himself on the dirty staircase and let his mind drift. Why had he acted like such a girl? It wasn't that big a deal. Nothing to get bent out of shape over. It was probably just stress affecting him, he decided; stress, and the mention of that idea that had bothered him for years.

He had always known what family was: the preteen he loved to hassle, a little girl he would do anything for, the man he had no problem challenging but ultimately respected; even his mother, the woman he only knew on the surface, when he was being generous. When everything changed, it hadn't bothered him much. So there were three strangers living in his house; that didn't mean they were welcome—it didn't make them family. But then, eventually, they were. Lizzie was the sister he could look out for without doting on, Nora was a mom who could actually help out without becoming too sentimental, and Casey . . . Casey didn't fit. She messed up his system, and it bothered him. Sure, it had been fun for a while, but eventually he came to realize she wouldn't ever fit. She didn't grow into the family like Lizzie and Nora had. She wasn't a sister he could begrudgingly admit he cared for or a sibling he always clashed with. She was just . . . there, messing things up, throwing him off balance. And she weaseled her way in anyway, screwing with his universe.

With an aggravated sigh, he heaved himself to his feet. His thought path was going nowhere he wanted it to. Lifting his arm to glance at his watch, he reluctantly fished the keys from his pocket. Yet another joyous side effect of his idiotic reaction; Kendra would be a nightmare.

He took his time climbing the stairs to his apartment, well aware that his fiancée would be waiting. With a mental groan he turned the key and let himself in.

"And just where have you been?" a flirtatiously admonitory voice greeted as Derek walked through the door. He started, surprised by the brunette waiting on the couch, but collected himself before it could show in his countenance. "We thought you had gotten cold feet and run to the arms of an ex-lover," Jenny continued with an ironic smile, standing and leaning against the arm of his old chair. She crossed her arms expectantly but made sure to keep her voice low enough that her words would remain indistinct to anyone outside of the room. Derek noted the tactic, but said nothing. That meant Kendra was there as well; her cousin undoubtedly knew that Derek's fiancée would not take the jab lightheartedly. Derek's eyebrows rose at her casually flirtatious demeanor, showing his intrigue.

"Is that Derek?" came a frazzled voice from the kitchen moments before Kendra appeared in the doorway. "Derry!" she announced, relieved, as she moved quickly across the room. Grasping the side of his face in one hand, she looked up at him worriedly. "Are you alright? What happened?" Her voice taking an almost panicked note, she wondered, "You aren't having second thoughts, are you?"

A half-annoyed smile twitched the corners of Derek's mouth as he tried not to roll his eyes. "Yes, nothing, no," he answered in quick sequence, and Kendra relaxed. Then she straightened again, dropping her hand from his face and watching him sternly.

"Derek, that was incredibly rude to our guests, not to mention Mom and Dad. Do you have any idea how worried I was?" He attempted an apologetic face, but she merely raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. "And just what was that all about, Derek? You freaked out for no reason and ditched me at our engagement party! How do you think that looks?"

"It was almost over anyway," he defended half-heartedly, giving her her freak-out. "I'm doubt anyone even noticed." _Or cared,_ he added mentally.

Tilting her head sideways, Kendra gave him a skeptical look. "Derry," she began, face shifting to the mock understanding of a psychiatrist who wanted answers. Derek's expression became defensive. He could handle Kendra's anxiousness and displeasure—he was fairly used to them, sad to say—, but if she started prying there might be a problem.

"Everything's fine," he interjected, frustration breeding a note of finality in his tone. He didn't want to dwell on it. He knew she didn't believe him, but at his tone she quickly dropped the topic.

"So," she said instead, after heaving a sigh and stepping away to grab her purse from the floor. Rooting through it, she pulled out a haphazard day-planner, flipping through and ignoring bits of paper sticking out as she searched through the back. "I've found the number of several wedding planners. They're supposed to be the best." She glanced up, watching for his reaction. "But Jenny thinks I should forget the planner," she added, motioning to her cousin, who had made herself comfortable on the couch. Derek quickly mimicked her, collapsing into his chair. "What do you think?" Kendra continued, watching him with an expectant smile.

"Kendra, you know I don't care. Isn't the planning left up to you girls?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"Derek," Kendra said, quirking her mouth in mock admonishment. "This is our wedding. It's a big deal. So at least pretend to care." Straightening again, she smiled brightly. "So, yes or no?"

Derek let his head fall back against the chair. _And here's where it starts_, he thought with a groan.

Kendra had eventually decided against a planner, but that was all Derek knew about the day. He had tuned out the chatter fairly quickly, but his head still swam with numbers and colors as he collapsed on his bed after dinner and tried to drown the sea of details with some good loud music. Nothing like a nice guitar rift to get thoughts of wedding plans from his mind. It was supposed to take weeks for a man to go insane from locations and fabric swabs, but Kendra was obviously trying to set a record. Allowing his skull to hit the headboard with a thud, he grabbed the remote and flicked the stereo volume up. A faint sound from the front room caught his attention and he paused, finger hovering over the volume button, before the noise could be drowned out. Furrowing his brows, he heaved himself to his feet, tossed the remote on the bed and made his weary way back into the makeshift den. _If Kendra came back to ask my opinion on something, I swear we're eloping_, he grumbled internally. Someone had drawn the curtains, and he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully before flicking the light switch. The motion revealed someone sitting in his chair, legs crossed and looking contemplative. She looked quickly behind her at the light before returning to a study of her nails.

"Out," he ordered after regaining his wits; Jenny glanced behind her, annoyed, before glimpsing his gesture to the couch and moving with a surprised eyebrow.

"Trying to be mysterious?" he pondered wryly once she had settled, covering his confusion with sarcasm.

"Just comes naturally," she shot back with a coy smile.

"How did you get in?"

"Kendra's key. You really should be careful about where she leaves it. Never know what could happen," she added cheekily.

Derek crossed his arms, raising a brow as he moved around to watch her. "Are you actually flirting with me after a torturous day of talking about my upcoming nuptials your cousin?" he asked, slightly surprised in spite of himself.

She watched him suggestively for a moment more before breaking out in a smile. "Sorry, couldn't help myself."

"And it continues," Derek observed, seating himself before turning to Jenny again.

"Just comes naturally," she repeated, but her smile was more friendly than enticing. "But it's good to see you aren't easily manipulated."

"So you came here to seduce me?" Derek wondered, annoyed. He could be sleeping right now. Okay, probably not sleeping, but at least getting his mind off things. He did not want to spend the evening playing cat and mouse with his fiancée's possibly unstable cousin.

"Not specifically no," she responded, leaning against the back of the couch and kicking her feet up onto the arm. "But the opportunity presented itself and I thought; hey, why not?" Derek gave her an impatient stare, simultaneously irritated and intrigued. Jenny picked up on the look and dropped her amused expression. "I thought we should get to know each other. I mean, you definitely have the genetics in the bag, but I'm going to need some history."

"So you've taken up a role in the Inquisition?"

"Yes," she responded simply, watching him expectantly. He considered kicking her out, but decided it probably wasn't worth the effort. Somehow he knew she wouldn't go lightly.

After a few moments silence, he made an annoyed motion, as if wondering why she hadn't continued, before leaning his head back, bored already.

"So, when did you meet my cousin?" she started; she appeared perfectly casual, but Derek could tell she was preparing to mentally record his answers.

"We both know you've already gotten an extensive history from Kendra, so why are we bothering here?"

"People see things differently," she defended lightly, and Derek couldn't help but chuckle. In other words, she wanted a straighter story.

"Eh, you know. We met, we broke up, we got back together. Nothing mind boggling," he dismissed.

"And now you're engaged," she added, watching him inquisitively.

He glanced at her, slightly frustrated. "Apparently."

"So, you met in high school?" she asked, ignoring his indifference to the conversation.

"She was your first girlfriend, correct?" Jenny went on coolly. Derek had the feeling she was enjoying his irritation. It reminded him of Casey, in a way, but for some reason, she didn't get under his skin the same way. _That's probably a good thing_, he reminded himself. Bringing his thoughts back to the conversation at hand, he ignored her steady gaze.

"Yes," he said shortly, both uncomfortable with the questions and annoyed with himself for his comparison.

"Did you date anyone during your breakup?" Jenny wanted to know.

"What does it matter?" Derek asked, unwilling to dredge up the past. She was doing the typical overprotective inquisition, but Derek didn't feel like dealing with it at the moment.

"Is that a 'yes?'" Jenny wondered, and Derek sighed.

"I had a few girls in college," he replied briefly. That statement could be taken any number of ways, but she could interpret it however she liked.

"Any that meant anything?" she wondered, skipping over the ambiguousness completely. His mind started to drift, and he quickly checked it.

"Girlfriends?" he scoffed. "No." Her eyes narrowed slightly at the response, and she looked curious. _Damn, she's perceptive_, he complained to himself. He opened his mouth to change the subject, but some offbeat tune broke through her inquiry. Rolling her eyes and abandoning her concerted stance, she stood and dug through a bag entirely too large to be dubbed a purse and pulled out her phone. Glancing at the number, she gave a bemused sigh and flipped the phone open.

"Kendra. No, I didn't get lost. I'll be there soon, I promise. Yep. Au Revoir." She turned back to Derek, but he was way ahead of her.

"You know, this has been great and all," he began, grasping the opportunity. "But you should really get going." He stood to usher the frustrating brunette out of the door. "Wouldn't want to keep Kendra waiting," he added half-sarcastically as he pulled the door open and surreptitiously pushed her out. "Later," he dismissed, closing the door in Jenny's flabbergasted face. With a click of the deadbolt, he headed back to his room and collapsed on the bed. Why were all women insane?

**GGGgggGGGgggGGGgggGGG**

Still not sure how I feel about this story or about the characters (or the characterizations, for that matter). I do have some more ideas as to where it's going, though. Updates for this story obviously won't be like they were for my last chapter fic (hopefully the length won't be either), but I will try and update at least once a week. Anyway, let me know what you think.


	3. Darts of the Past

I've managed to write another (albeit fairly short) chapter. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: People who own shows manipulate actors, not internet fiction. **

_It was brighter than he remembered. Glancing around the room, he furrowed a brow. Brighter than when? The thought evaporated as footsteps echoed behind him; whirling, he found himself facing a blonde. Kendra. With a small smile she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before sitting comfortably on his bed. He quirked a grin in return, sinking down beside her and leaning in. She smiled expectantly, watching his lips draw closer. Just before their mouths touched, he caught sight of a brunette passing by the open door in his peripheral vision. Slightly distracted, his thoughts returned to the blonde when her lips brushed his. _

_The room was dark but comfortable. The lamp on his bedside was clicked on, and he was lying against the pillows, flipping through a comic book. A blonde lay perpendicular to him, head resting slightly against his hip and a magazine forgotten beside her. His brain registered her rhythmic breathing as he skimmed the word bubbles on the page and glanced across the pictures. Light streamed through the doorway, and he caught a glimpse of swaying brunette hair as a head poked in the door long enough to say, "Dinner's ready," and pop back out. The blonde beside him stirred and slowly sat up, smiling languidly._

_He could feel the chill of the air, but he felt overheated as he concentrated on skating around his opponents. With a practiced 'swap' his stick connected with ice, spraying white powder as the puck sailed into the net. Relaxing into an easygoing confidence, he smirked as he skated back across the rink, glancing up to the stands. There. Blonde hair. She looked bored and he knew she was itching to dig her nail kit from her bag, but she smiled brightly when he caught her eye. He glanced down as he slid to a halt, accepting the deserved slaps on the back from his teammates. When he glanced up again, she was looking slightly more alert, asking a question of the brunette sitting next to her. Why was she here? he wondered briefly; but then the blonde glanced back up, giving a cutesy wave he barely returned before he refocused on the game._

Derek felt himself begin to drift, and suddenly it was cold and dark and his eyes were falling open. Squinting in the face of his muddled mind, Derek dimly noted the covers had partially fallen to the floor; with a halfhearted kick, he let them slide off the end of his bed. Clicking on the lamp, he gave a frustrated sigh, running a hand through haphazard hair as he swung himself off the bed and trudged down the hallway.

The clock blared four am and he groaned, rubbing weary fingers over his eyes. He didn't need to wake up for another three hours. Wishing he could go back to sleep, Derek absently clicked the coffee machine on and pulled a mug from the cabinet. Maybe excess caffeine would help keep him conscious and functioning during work.

It had only been in the weeks after his engagement party that he'd started having these dreams. They didn't bother him, per se, but there was an uncomfortable feeling lurking around the edges of his mind when he awoke. And though there was entirely nothing noteworthy about the memories, he found he could rarely sleep once he woke from one.

At the ding of the coffee maker, he lethargically grabbed the pot and poured himself a cup, snatching the sugar from the counter as he passed and shaking the granules into the mixture as he walked to the chair. Taking a deep swig, he thought absently on the dreams.  
They seemed fairly mundane; just glimpses in time, mostly in the months preceding graduation. Nothing out of the ordinary. Staring into his drink he mulled it over.

He didn't think of that time often, he realized. The easygoing teen relationship. It was all before or after: the first girl he had feelings for, the first girl he was serious with; the first girl with whom he made an effort after a major fallout. Never innocent. Never fun. Everything had shaded that, made it loose its potency.

_But why is Casey in them?_ he wondered, frustrated with himself. _It's not like they're telling me something important. She's just there, a temporary distraction._ He chuckled ironically at the thought. There had never been anything temporary about Casey. His mouth twisted into a rueful grin, his boundaries not fully awake enough to stop his thoughts. With a shake of his head, he grabbed his mug from the table and went to sit in his chair, flipping on early morning sports highlights to fill up the gap in his schedule.

When he arrived home after a blurred day at work, he was surprised by the hybrid car sitting in front of the complex. He jogged up the stairs and slid his key into the lock, opening the door before dropping the keys into his pocket. No one was waiting, so he shrugged off his jacket, tossing it on the couch as he moved around the apartment, looking for signs of life.

"Derek," he heard from behind him, and he turned to the voice, surprised to find his little sister sitting at the kitchen table.

"Where's Lizzie?" he wanted to know. Somehow, he couldn't believe that Lizzie had lent her car to Marti, no matter how good a mood she was in. Marti was something of an erratic driver, and it took a bit of convincing for even their dad to give his sister the keys.

"Oh, I borrowed her car," Marti dismissed flippantly. A smile twitched Derek's lips at the statement; no where did she mention Lizzie allowing the action. "Derek," she repeated, sounding as though she wanted something and wouldn't take no for an answer. "You have to stop her."

"Stop who?" he asked, seating himself beside her and watching her curiously.

"Kendra." She practically groaned the name, and he wanted to sigh in agreement of the explanation left unspoken. "It's been three weeks, Derek. She's gone completely crazy."

He did his best not to agree with her. They had decided on a date before the engagement party, but in the preceding weeks she had come up with a location and tentative decorating scheme and moved on to exhausting the world's supply of flower and dress magazines.

"I'm staying out of it," he told her apologetically, lifting his hands defensively. "I'd like to keep my sanity for the honeymoon, if at all possible."

"Smer-ek," she wheedled, doing her best to look pathetic. Derek felt a pang of sympathy for his little sister, but he crossed his arms and watched her resolutely. Sighing, Marti changed her tactic. "Derek, she's Bridezilla already. I mean, she pulled me out of school today," she explained plainly.

"And the problem is . . ." Derek raised an eyebrow, unable to understand her discontent.

"To look at dresses," she deadpanned. At the slight cringe on her older brother's face, she added, "And I'm not talking normal bridesmaid dresses. Frilly and pink," she stated blandly, wrinkling her nose. Derek winced. "I thought Kendra was all into fashion," Marti complained, content that she had growing sympathy from her brother.

"I think it's a psycho bride thing," he speculated, trying not to imagine the horrors of Marti's description. "They need someone to snap them out of it." Marti gave him an expectant look and he quickly added, "Not me."

"Smerek, who else will she listen to?" she cajoled, pouting.

"I'm not getting involved," Derek said firmly, doing his best to squelch the brotherly instincts she knew she was causing. "Why don't you talk to Nora or Casey or someone?"

She rolled her eyes. "Because. Nora thinks it's sweet that she's so happy, and won't interfere anyway because she's so glad you're getting married, and you know Casey won't get involved." He winced internally at that. "And Lizzie's staying away from the planning whenever possible; you know I can't rope her into sharing my agony." He somehow doubted that, but thought it best to spare Lizzie whatever means his sister would come up with.

Derek was running out of options. There was no way he was getting involved in this anymore than he had to—his plan extended to getting a tux and showing up—but he couldn't abandon his sister. "Uh, Kendra's cousin is in town; did you meet her?"

Marti stopped sulking, looking intrigued. "No. We left the engagement party early, remember?"

"Why don't you talk to her?" he asked, clinging to his last option. "I mean, she's a little Multiple Personality, but she seems kind of sane about all that girly planning stuff. And Kendra will listen to her," he added as Marti's look turned contemplative. "Sort of," he amended, and Marti sighed.

"Alright. But if this doesn't work, I'm coming back. I have ways of making you help," she threatened, only half playfully.

"And I have ways of getting around them," he reminded with a grin, glad to have avoided apparent disaster. "You staying for dinner?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"Can't. Play practice. But I'll come back soon," she promised, grabbing her bag from the floor and dumping out half the contents before fishing out the keys. "You need some bearable company," she quipped, and he shook his head, knowing she was partially right. He was marrying Kendra for a reason, but sometimes . . .. He raised a hand in farewell as Marti traipsed out the door, smiling deviously at who knew what. Shaking his head, he began to search through the cabinets for something edible.

As he dumped his empty dinner bowl into the sink, Derek briefly wondered why he still ate Ramen Noodles three years out of college. _Because you're too lazy to make anything else_, he answered himself. Flicking on the tap, he smiled longingly. He should have had Kendra over for dinner. Not in the state she was in, of course, but good food and a fiancée were usually a good combination. The water began to flow over the sides of the bowl and he turned the water off, leaving a pool of it stagnant in the dish and abandoning it to relax in front of the TV.

He was startled from his bored fascination with a Jeep commercial by the vibrating of his pocket. He reached down and pulled out his phone, flipping it open with one hand and relaxing back into the chair.

"Hello?"

"Derek?" An odd dart shot through him, but he ignored it as he always did.

"That would be a logical assumption, considering this is my phone," he drawled wryly.

"Derek, be serious," the voice commanded, and he sat up, taking note of the worried tone.

"Something wrong, Casey?"

"Not wrong, really. It's just . . .," she sighed. "Marti's gone again. Do you know where she went?"

"Yeah, she stopped by. Said she had play practice."

Casey sighed, simultaneously relieved and annoyed. Her voice muffled for a moment and he could hear someone on the other line before it cleared. "Thanks, Derek. I don't know why she just disappears like that. I swear every time I go out with Mom she vanishes again. If she would just write down her schedule . . .-"

"Relax, Case. Marti's not going to follow a schedule," he pointed out, half realizing she would take the opportunity to lecture; he didn't really care. Lectures, at least, were the same.

"Thanks to the influence of _some people_. Her life would be so much easier if . . .-"

"Casey, she can take care of herself," Derek reminded, uninterested.

"But ever since she passed that driver's test she's been driving Mom nuts. No one ever knows where she is anymore, and-."

"And she's always just fine. She's at _school_ for cripes' sake."

There was a pause on the other line before Casey reluctantly said, "Fine. But next time you should tell her to check in with Mom." He could tell she wanted to say more, and felt the old annoyance at her restraint.

Nonetheless, he followed suit. "Yeah, sure," he dismissed easily. "I'll tell her."

"Alright," she accepted, and there was a pause. "Oh. George wants you to call. I think he wants a male bonding day or something. He gets back tomorrow, so I'd try him after dinner."

"I know, Casey. Just because you live fifteen minutes closer doesn't mean I never talk to my Dad," he told her, sure she could hear him rolling his eyes.

"MmHmm," she responded noncommittally. "Anyway, I need to get home, and I should tell Mom she doesn't need to call any more of Marti's friends. I'll talk to you later, okay?" It was a casual farewell, and he felt his irritation rise.

"Sure," he replied, easily hiding the dissatisfaction in his tone. "Later."

"Goodbye, Derek," she said, then hung up. Derek snapped his cell shut and tossed it onto the couch, where it bounced before catching in the crack between cushions. Leaning back in his chair, he scrubbed a hand across his face.

There was always something vaguely disconcerting about talking to Casey. It wasn't like he never saw her. He saw her all the time, actually. It just never seemed . . . right to him, the way they acted. Their conversations were polite and unchallenging, the kind of dialogue acquaintances would exchange when they didn't want to offend one another. Any insults or jokes were forced, contrived from expectations rather than actual desire for them. There was no hint of understanding each other; it wasn't argumentative or heated or annoyed or energetic. It wasn't him and Casey. _Yes it is_, he reminded himself. _That is me and Casey. Casual. Polite. Boring._ But they whys of it led to things he didn't want to think about; _didn't_ think about, when he could help it.

Heaving himself from his chair, he wandered into the kitchen, listening as the TV clicked back to the game. _Cold beer, junk food and hockey_, he decided, moving to the fridge. Just the right things to distract a guy.

**WWWWWWWWwwwwwwwwWWWWWWWWW **

I'm not quite sure about my characterization of Derek. It's hard for me to get inside his head, namely because he's a male, lol. And taking into account that he's grown up a bit, I'm trying to find a balance of typical Derek and typical adult male who avoids everything (that sounded so stereotypical, didn't it? Apologies). Any opinions would be appreciated. If he seems irritated frequently, it's because he obviously dislikes being wrapped up in the wedding planning and dealing with Kendra; but if it seems to get too excessive, let me know. Hope you liked the chapter. Suggestions are love.


	4. Bits of Memory

Sorry for the wait, guys. I had my massive paper to finish and just couldn't get inspired. And then my computer broke. Hopefully I'll do better next time. I feel like this chapter is longer, though; so that's something. Of course, I could be imagining it, but . . ..

**Disclaimer: Yes, I own no TV shows; I own no TV shows today.**

Derek awoke slowly, glad it was the weekend. Despite what others may think Derek didn't hate his job, but even the mildly interesting world of media editing got boring after a while. Climbing out of bed, Derek lazed through his morning routine before moving to the kitchen for a late breakfast of cereal. As he ate, he noticed the message light blinking on his machine. Grabbing his bowl, he leaned against the counter and pressed the button, taking another bite as the familiar sound of the automated voice rang out. Moments later another voice replaced it.

"Derek," his dad said, sounding partially aggravated, partially amused. Derek suddenly realized he had forgotten to call. "I know the world of an engaged man can be hectic, but that's no reason to forget your old man. You should come over sometime. I don't want my eldest to loose his sanity this young." George chuckled and Derek rolled his eyes. "Give me a call."

The machine beeped, and Derek deleted the message, dropping his bowl in the sink as he picked up the phone and dialed home. His Dad answered on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Dad, how ya been?"

"Fine. How have _you_ been? Too busy to call home, apparently."

"I'm calling now," Derek reminded, and George chuckled slightly.

"I assume you got my message?"

"Yeah." Derek ignored the fact that he was supposed to have called first. If his dad was ignoring it, why shouldn't he?

"So when do you want to come out? I figured we could watch a game, maybe order some pizza. You know, have a boys day."

Derek's eyebrow raised. It wasn't that he and his dad never watched a game together, but they usually weren't planned events. "Sure, Dad. What's the occasion?"

"I just thought you could use a break," George replied nonchalantly. Derek rolled his eyes and quirked a grin: his dad wasn't exactly the best liar. "And maybe we could talk a bit," George added casually. _So that's it. Man to man talk_. Derek shivered slightly. Those were never pleasant. "Wednesday alright?" Derek racked his brain, but knew he didn't have anything planned. He was pretty sure his dad knew, too. _Might as well get it over with_.

"Sure. But you're buying."

George sighed, but the comment was obviously expected. "You're going to have to start paying for things in a few months, you know."

Derek rolled his eyes again. "Yeah yeah. I've got a while left."

"Wednesday, Derek," his dad reminded.

"I've got it. Later, Dad." He waited for George's farwell before clicking off the phone, making a mental note to write the date down later. He washed out his dish and set it on the counter to dry, wiping his hands on his jeans and going to grab a soda. The front door swung heavily closed as he reached for a drink, and he abandoned his venture for the moment.

"Hey Marti," he greeted, peering from behind the refrigerator door as his sister let herself in. Only Marti had such a distinctive rattling of items when she entered. "What's up?"

"Eh, you know," she said vaguely, bending to grab the keys from where they had fallen to the floor and shoving them in her bag. He closed the refridgerator door and met her at the table. "Practice let out early and I had nowhere to go. Cameron lives out here anyway; he gave me a ride."

"And Cameron is . . .?" he asked, crossing his arms.

She rolled her eyes. "My creepy over-aged boyfriend," she said flippantly, watching him from the corner of her eye and laughing at the look that spread across his face. "No one, Smerek," she said, rolling her eyes. "Is my big brother worried about me?" she teased, sliding into a seat at the table and pulling a To-Go box from her purse.

He felt an annoyed sort of embarrassment rise, choosing to change the subject rather than admit his overprotective urges. "Why didn't you call Nora to pick you up?"

"Well, I would," she told him, setting some cookies on the table and un-wrapping the plastic. "But Dad and Nora are leaving today, remember? Their anniversary weekend?" She said obviously, pulling two sodas from her purse and sliding one across to him. "So I'm staying with Casey while they're off doing things I'd rather not know about." Derek chose not to think about that either. "I have drinks you know," he told her as he popped the top of his soda.

"These are better," she said simply, and he shrugged assent rather than try to decipher how. "Casey had a work emergency this morning, so I thought I'd surprise my favorite big brother with lunch. So here you are," she finished, breaking the lid off the box and dumping half the box's contents into it. "Lunch," she announced, reaching behind her to grab two forks from the drawer and pass one to Derek. He ignored the fact that he had just eaten breakfast and gladly accepted the meal. Cereal wasn't very filling anyway.

"So how are you getting back across town?" he asked with a raised brow. More likely than not, her next sentence would include either his car or his chauffeur services.

"I left Casey a message. Told her I'd need a ride in an hour," Marti responded, digging into her stir fry meal.

"And she's called back how many times?" he asked, shifting slightly in his chair.

Marti's eyes flickered interest, but her voice never changed. "Six. But I've let them go to voicemail. I already know what she'll say anyway. Why bother?" Derek shook his head at his sister's dismissal, wondering how she managed to ignore Casey's anger so easily. He could never seem to pass it up--not that he encountered it anymore. "I called Jennifer, by the way," she added, as if the statement was completely relevant to the topic. "Kendra hasn't asked my opinion since Wednesday," she told him, pleased, as she broke a cookie in half and popped it into her mouth. "She's still insane, but at least she's leaving me out of it." Derek nodded, wondering why he couldn't get the same consideration. "She's pretty cool," Marti added. "Jenny," she explained, causing Derek to raise an eyebrow and attempt to swallow down his food.

"_She's_ insane," he finally said, giving his sister a pointed look.

"She's fun," Marti corrected, ignoring her brother's skepticism. "She came to my practice yesterday and we chilled after; she even let me drive her car," Marti said with a laugh, and Derek couldn't tell if it was from Jenny's naivety or Marti's enjoyment of near death experiences. He rolled his eyes. _Figures they would get along_.

"It won't happen again, I'm sure," Derek interjected wryly, and Marti shrugged in agreement.

"But it was fun. I commend her for taking the risk. I can't even convince you to let me drive, and you'll let me do anything." He rolled his eyes again. He let her do a lot, sure, but anything was stretching it. It's not like he had no sense of responsibility, even if it was minute. "She called earlier while I was picking up the food. I told her to come over later."

He did a double take. "You told her to come over?" Marti nodded. "Over here?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Smarti, why?" Derek groaned, irritated. "I want to avoid that woman as much as possible. You don't need to go telling her to come to my apartment."

Marti gave him a look that clearly said he was being difficult; considering she was the baby of the two, Derek somewhat resented it. "Come on, Smerek. Just because she freaked you out last time she dropped by, doesn't prevent her from dropping by again. She had to come over anyway. Kendra wanted her to pick up that stack of magazines she left on your coffee table."

"If she starts pestering me with questions or goes through any sudden mood shifts, I'm kicking her out of here," he warned.

She quirked a smile and shook her head. "Okay," she said plainly. Dropping her empty soda can into her equally empty Styrofoam box, Marti pushed it to the middle of the table. "But you'll have to get used to her eventually. I mean, she will be related to you," she teased.

"She'll be related to me every bit as much as Casey is related to me," he grumbled, ignoring the mental pokes his brain was sending him.

"Then we're all in trouble," Marti said under her breath, low enough that Derek missed it in his distraction.

They both glanced up at the sound of the door swinging open and subsequently shut. Marti stood and to greet Jenny and Derek slumped before pushing himself to his feet. _Didn't anyone knock anymore?_

Derek was relieved to find that Marti provided enough distraction to deter Jenny from her witch hunt, or whatever it was she had been doing. He was able to stay relatively free from conversation, and what he did engage in had nothing to do with either Kendra or the wedding. Soon enough, Casey arrived; his only guest to actually knock. They all stood and Marti jumped up to answer the door; Derek glanced at the clock, realizing with some nostalgic amusment that almost precisely an hour had passed.

"Marti," Casey began chastisingly as soon as the door was open. "How many times have I told you to keep a schedule? You can't just expect people to cater to you. I was in the middle of something important."

"Sorry, Casey," Marti responded, walking back to sit on the couch and sounding completely unrepentant.

Casey noted this and sighed. "Could you please show a little consideration next time?" Marti shrugged assent, though everyone who knew Marti knew she wouldn't do it, and Casey stepped into the room. Jenny stepped closer, watching her speculatively.

"Casey, hmm?" Jenny asked, quirking her mouth secretively and casually folding her arms.

"Um, yes," Casey responded, slightly confused. She shot Derek and Marti a questioning look; Marti smiled to herself as Derek shrugged. Jenny nodded to herself, perching herself on the arm of the couch and turning to Derek.

"So this is the stepsister?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and smiling, intrigued. Derek pretended he didn't hear the hint of suggestiveness in her tone, instead walking over to drop in to his chair. He was debating whether to answer sarcastically or ignore the question completely when Casey approached, peering closely and looking surprised.

"I can't believe you still have that thing!" she exclaimed, amused disbelief mingling with disgust as she moved around Derek. It took him a moment to realize she was talking about his chair, and he realized with mild surprise that Casey had never been to his appartment. There was no reason to, and neither wanted to spend any time alone with the other.

"It's my chair," he answered plainly as she finished her examination of the old piece of furniture and moved back around to look at him.

"Come on, Derek. That thing has to be as old as your Dad's couch. Didn't Mom and George junk it when you went to school?" Surprisingly, her voice was more amused than admonitory, and Derek felt himself growing more comfortable as he responded.

"They tried to," he said with a snort. "They really should have known better." She raised an eyebrow and he explained, "I got Edwin to save it for me."

Casey shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Through what means of extortion?"

"I resent that," Derek told her, folding his arms across his chest. "He did it out of brotherly duty."

"And fear," she retorted.

"While that may be true," Derek admitted, "I did nothing that could be constituted as extortion."

Casey shook her head, but a small smile formed at the corner of her lips. Catching sight of the occupants of the couch watching them with interest, Casey suddenly straightened.

"Marti, we should go. I brought some things home with me, and I need to finish them tonight." Marti sighed dramatically and rose. Derek glanced at Jenny, wondering how he could make her leave. He was surprised when her eyes darted sideways and she stood as well.

"Why don't I walk out with you? I really should be going, anyways." Without waiting for an answer she slid her purse onto her shoulder and grabbed the magazines from underneath the coffee table.

Casey muttered a quick, "Goodbye," before heading out the door, closely followed by Jenny. Marti trailed them, a smile twitching as she waved goodbye to her brother and shut the door behind her.

Over the next few hours, Derek busied himself with television, email and food to keep his mind occupied. He even resorted to work, sitting at his desk and touching up a few things. He was restless, but he needed to do something. Shortly after the women had left, he had started thinking. That was rarely good, as it often led to realizations he would rather suppress. In this case, he had pondered his brief conversation with Casey; all it's inflection, all it's nuances. It was reminiscent of their old conversations, if less insulting, and Derek had spent the evening doing what he wondered if he'd ever be done with: avoiding memories.

It was a welcome distraction when his phone rang in late afternoon, and he couldn't help but feel relief to recognize Kendra's number.

"Hey, Der," she greeted when she heard him pick up; he could almost hear the smile in her voice, and lifted the corner of his lips in return.

"Hey Kendra," he acknowledged, clicking the mouse to pause his action and minimize the screen. "You at work?" he asked, swiveling away from his computer and leaning back in his chair.

"Yeah, I work late tonight. The boss wants me to rack up hours before we leave in _six months_." Her emphasis on the date was obviously sarcastic; he chuckled.

"Well, you know how much two weeks off can set you back in the fine world of retail clothing," he added mockingly.

"I know," she sighed. "It's completely nonsensical. But at least she's understanding. I'll make a romantic of her yet," she promised, the cheerfulness in her voice mixed with an undercurrent of determination. He almost felt bad for the woman; once Kendra made up her mind there was no stopping her. "Speaking of romantic . . ." she let the sentence linger, and he raised a brow. "I have plans after work."

"Really?" he asked, interested in what ways that involved him.

"Yes," she said coyly; then her tone shifted to persuasive. "Okay, I know this isn't how you want to spend your Saturday evening, but . . . I want you to come dress shopping." The smile fell from Derek's face and he fought the need to gag. "I'll make it up to you," she added enticingly, but he couldn't bring himself to register the thought.

"Kendra," he groaned. "How could I possibly be helpful _dress shopping?_ Besides," he added slightly more helpfully. "I'm not allowed to see your dress."

"Not for _my_ dress," Kendra explained, and he could practically see her rolling her eyes. "For the bridesmaids. You won't have to do much," she promised beseechingly. "It's just . . . Marti said this thing about the dresses we were looking at. And okay," she conceded, "they were a little Fairy Princess. But Jenny's made a few comments, too, and if you could just come along you could tell me what Marti would like. I mean, everyone else will basically wear what I tell them to." She could hear him sigh in reluctant annoyance and added, "Come on, Derek. It would barely take an hour. I don't get off 'til 7:30, and most of the good boutiques close early. Three stores, tops." She let the silence linger, and he rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling. If he didn't go today, he would undoubtedly be dragged on a longer excursion sometime soon. Still he didn't answer right away.

He knew Kendra was getting anxious, so he finally muttered a low, "fine," as he rotated his head back to the wall.

She squealed excitedly, and though the sound in no way made it better, at least she was happy. "Thank you!" she intoned, pleased. "And I swear it won't take long. I'll stop by around 8 and we can take your car."

"Yeah, sure," he said noncommittally, resigning himself to the evening.

"Thank you," she said again, sounding more genuine.

"No problem," he replied feeling slightly bad. He supposed he should be involved in some way, and finding something his sister liked would be an easy if time-consuming task. Nonetheless, rationalizations did nothing to improve his outlook on planning the wedding, and, of all things, dresses.

With a sigh, he returned his mind to the conversation. "See you then," he said as a goodbye, turning back to his computer.

"I love you," Kendra said as her own farewell.

"Love you, too," he added before the reciever clicked in his ear and he absently snapped his phone shut and slid it into his pocket. He had a few hours yet to kill before the inevitable arrived.

No matter how he tried, Derek found he could not concentrate. His earlier thoughts of the past had been replaced with their antithesis. It wasn't so much that he was pondering his future than that he was distracted by it. He was starting to get that feeling again; closed in, pestered, suppressed. That feeling was never good where his ration was concerned. Derek hated feeling like he had no options, and he tended to do anything to avoid it. The last time he felt it in any large quantity had indirectly resulted in most of the difficulties he faced today.

It was before graduation, before everything that happened that summer. Things were always simple between Derek and Kendra: she came to his games, he suffered through the occasional shopping trip and they both worked through a few nothing fights, but they genuinely liked each other. Graduation distorted all of that. Suddenly it was all changes and the future and whether to get serious and what would happen when everyone left. It just wasn't fun anymore, and the fact that Derek had feelings for Kendra started to fade in the face of it. Sure, he liked her; but was it really worth the pestering and confusion and hopes for eternal declarations of love?

It wasn't like it was completely his fault; but in retrospect, Derek could see how his frustrations had taken a part in their breakup.

"_Well if you really don't care, why bother?" she demanded, sitting erect from where she had been lounging on the bed only moments before._

"_There's a difference between 'not caring' and not expecting too much," he pointed out, aggravated._

"_Try, 'having no expectations,'" Kendra argued, staring angrily at him._

"_Kendra, you're going off to your whatever-"_

"_-internship-" she broke in, annoyed._

_He continued without missing a beat, "-and I'm going to school. Here. So forgive me for not wanting to wait around for something that's not coming back."_

"_If you don't want to be chained down, you could just say so," she told him, attempting to make him feel guilty. It worked, a bit, but he would never admit it. "I'm not going away forever and you know it."_

"_Indefinite and forever are usually related," he argued._

"_But you could come with me. Or transfer next semester. Or something."_

"_Kendra," he said blandly, done with the conversation. "It won't work. It was a high school relationship. It was fun while it lasted, but really. Think about it," she quieted her attempts at interruption to watch him, almost confused. He knew he was over simplifying, but it was easier to get it over with however possible. "We're going different places, we're trying new things, we've never been that serious . . . I'm sorry," he ended with a shrug._

_He expected more protests, but they didn't come. She just stared at him, as if she was trying to reason something out. Finally, she sighed. "Yeah. Sucks for us." She drew in a slow breath and gave a shaky laugh. "Bye," she whispered, leaning over to kiss his cheek before standing and walking quickly towards the door. He leaned back against the pillows, relief at resolving the drama almost overpowered by a medley of melancholy emotions he would rather ignore. As Kendra pulled the door open and stepped hurriedly into the hallway, Derek was surprised to hear the faint sound of collision. 'Sorry,' was mumbled by two females, one tearful, one embarrassed. Derek glanced up sharply, a flash of blonde fading from his peripheral vision as he locked eyes with Casey. Then she bit her lip, embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping, and turned on her heel to walk out of Derek's vision._

And that was the easy part. _End and beginning_, Derek thought with a sigh. _What a cliché_. It wasn't a horrible breakup, as far as immediate consequences went; but much as he hated to admit it, age and a semblance of maturity had given him a better perspective on action and consequence. Regardless, he knew he didn't want another such experience. He just needed a little reminder of why he was marrying her. Nodding his head decisively, he began the process of shutting down his makeshift office. He glanced at his watch: 4:00. He would just have to meet her a little early.

Derek pulled into the employee lot behind the small boutique and walked around to the front. As he passed the storefront window, he caught sight of Kendra arranging shoeboxes on a shelf. He paused at the door, watching her. He had barely seen her in weeks, as she was planning the event on a limited time frame, and the time he did spend with her were usually distracted moments when she flipped through books and he worked on something. It had been a while since she had been . . . normal. Lately, the everyday things had been ignored. Shaking his head at the sentimentality, he pushed through the door.

Kendra glanced up at the ding of the door, surprised at Derek striding toward her. She set down her boxes and greeted him with a peck on the cheek before satisfying her curiosity.

"Derek, I told you I'd stop by your place. And it can't be seven thirty already." She moved to grab her phone from her pocket, but Derek cut her off.

"It's not. I figured you could ditch work. You know, tell your boss you feel sick or something."

She raised a brow. "Derry, you hate dress shopping. Why would you want to spend _more_ time doing it?"

"Not for dress shopping," he explained, rolling his eyes. "For a date."

"A date?"

"A date," he confirmed. "We can still go shopping or whatever later," he promised when she gave him a look that obviously said he was avoiding something. "But really, Kendra. When was the last time we just . . . had a good time together?"

She gave him a searching look as if wondering what exactly he was thinking before allowing her face to shift into a smile. "Okay," she agreed with a shrug. Looking up at him, she added, "Sounds perfect."

Kendra was unable to convince her boss she was sick as the woman happened to walk into the room before Derek left, but he managed to sweet talk the begrudging manger into letting Kenra leave.

Climbing into the car, Kenra cleared off the seat and settled before turning to Derek. "So, where are we going?" she asked, raising one eyebrow at him as he turned the keys and the engine rumbled to life. "Out," he answered ambiguously.

"Meaning . . .?" she wondered, looking for something more concrete.

"Meaning I'm going to take my fiancée out for a bite to eat and a real activity that has nothing to do with wedding details. And then we can look at dresses," he added easily, knowing she would dislike his avoidance of that element.

Kendra raised her eyebrow and watched him expectantly. "Okay," she said after a moment. He grinned as he let his foot off the break and slid into traffic.

**VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV**

Yeah, I decided Derek was being a little too harsh to Kendra. It's really just a matter of timing, but I thought I'd cut her a break. Plus it's relevent to the plot. I'm too tired to question my writing. Hope you liked it. Let me know what you think.


	5. Questions

Yes, I'm a horrible person. I don't know why these updates are so difficult for me. I was brilliantly inspired three times this weekend and last, but it was crazy and I couldn't get to a computer. Then I got inspired on the wrong part of the story. So I'll have to fake it. Oh well, enjoy anyway.

**Disclaimer: Owners of televisions shows get money, acknowledgement and perks. I don't. **

Wednesday came quickly, and Derek found himself almost wishing he could skip the game. Not that he would miss hockey, but he knew his dad would probably make the evening uncomfortable, purposely or not. He still cringed at the thought of his dad giving him the talk, and this time his dad actually scheduled the conversation. He could only guess what it was about. Kendra called to talk after he got off work, and he was surprised to find she didn't mention dresses or flowers in the first five minutes. She had been fairly good about that all week, and he vaguely hoped it would last. She had come over twice that week to talk about planning, but for the most part didn't complain when he went about business as usual as she discussed things with her cousin.

He was altogether sure he would never escape the irritation that was Jenny, but found she was somewhat bearable as long as someone else was around. At least she couldn't give him the third degree with Kendra in the room.

"So, as soon as I get Marti's dress, the bridesmaids will be easy," Kendra finished easily bringing Derek back to the voice on the other line. Maybe he should have been paying attention; he knew it was too much to hope that she would leave him out of more wedding details.

"So, when do you need that by?" he asked resignedly.

"Pretty soon, actually. We don't have that much time to plan," she reminded. "But you don't need to worry about it," she announced after a moment, obviously aware that he would be immensely relieved and sounding pleased with herself.

"Why?" he asked warily. Kendra wasn't one to drop something she wanted, and he was one of the few who could satiate his little sister.

"Actually, Jenny and I are on our way to Toronto. I needed help looking for the bridesmaids, and when happened to mention that I was worried about Marti she offered to handle it."

"She's handling it?" he asked skeptically. He should be glad to be off the hook, but he was rather doubtful at Jenny's competence, not to mention her motives. She could be doing it to help out her cousin, but he didn't trust her.

"Yeah," Kendra replied, sounding slightly surprised herself. "I don't know how she did it, but Marti's going with her. Apparently they've bonded or something," she told him, air quotes evident in her tone. "But they should be able to pick out something between the two of them. I even got Jenny to follow my guidelines," she interjected, pleased. "You have no idea how hard it is to convince Jenny to do things my way."

He smirked and shook his head. He could probably guess. He wasn't quite sure if she could handle it, but felt vague gratitude. If he was off the hook, he could ignore whatever ulterior motives Kendra's insane cousin might have. At least for the time being.

"Well, we're here," Kendra announced with slight rattling on her end of the line. "I've got to go. Love you, Derry."

"Love you, Kendra," he replied, rolling his eyes but allowing slight affection in his half-grin. He couldn't seem to break her of that habit. The line clicked and he shoved the phone in his pocket, grabbing his keys and heading for the door.

"Derek, hi," Nora greeted thirty minutes later, emerging from the kitchen as he closed the front door behind him. "How are you?"

"Fine," he replied easily.

"How are things at work?" she asked, and he rolled his eyes; she was obviously avoiding immediate questions about the wedding, but he could tell she wanted to know.

"Good. Kendra's good, too. Busy with all those plans I'd rather ignore," he told her, grinning when she realized he beat her to the punch.

"Oh. Well, I can't help but be curious," Nora said with a smile. "George is in the kitchen. I made him wait to order the pizza," she told him with a slight conspiring tone.

"Thanks, Nora," Derek acknowledged as he slung his jacket over the back of a chair and walked toward the kitchen.

Two hours later found Derek and his father sitting on the couch surrounded by paper plates and empty soda cans. The game was less interesting than most, but they still found things to complain about and occasionally shout about with vague motions for the TV. A commercial break started and they relaxed into the cushions, momentarily free from their investment in the television.

"So," Marti announced dramatically, pulling the males' attention from the commercials on the screen to the teenager descending the stairs. "What do you think?" she finished, pausing on the landing to flair her arms and shrug her shoulders cutely.

Derek had to fight back a laugh. "Loose a bet, Smarti?" he wondered, resulting in his little sister rolling her eyes and abandoning her dramatic pose to walk over to a chair.

"No," she said pointedly, gesturing to her outfit. "I'm getting in character." Derek had no idea what production the high school was putting on, and the extent of his knowledge on Marti's role was that she was quiet. This, however, was as far from Marti as clothing could get. Nowhere did he see rips, bright colors or odd styles. She looked like Casey would look in a stereotypical world. "I'm going to wear it all week," she informed them, lowering herself gracefully to the couch and smoothing the plain skirt. "To remind myself of quiet and sophisticated."

"Not that same outfit?" sounded in scandalized tones from the kitchen and Derek glanced up to see Casey setting her purse on the table as she walked toward them. What was she doing there? Couldn't she go one week without seeing Nora? He fought back a mental groan, for once not torn between wanting to see her and wanting to forget she existed. If his Dad's conversation went the direction he thought it would, having Casey around would not be good for his mental state.

"No, Casey." Marti sounded as if she were answering an over-protective parent with an obvious answer.

"I just wanted to make sure," Casey defended herself. "With the Venturis, you never know," she muttered, and Derek felt a bit of the tension melt from his posture as a wry smile formed like it always did when she reminded him of her old self. She was still her old self around everyone else, he supposed, which was why she sometimes slipped up when other people were present. She turned to leave and Marti cleared her throat.

"Casey, don't you always tell me it's rude not to acknowledge someone?" she asked innocently, twitching a smile.

Casey turned and seemed surprised to see Derek sitting on the couch by his Dad. He wouldn't be surprised if she had trained herself not to notice him.

"Oh. Derek. Hi," she said placidly, giving him a polite half-smile.

"Hey, Case," he returned half-heartedly, glancing up briefly before his attention returned to the final seconds of a burger ad.

"How's work?" she asked, apparently intent on the distraction of small talk. He started to shrug, but the commercial ended and hockey filled the screen once more.

"Derek, the game's back on," his Dad announced unnecessarily. "Casey, it was nice seeing you," he added shortly before ignoring her, leaving her to walk off in mild annoyance. George had no intention of being rude, but sometimes he lacked the proper focus to watch sports and practice manners at the same time. She walked backed toward the kitchen and the boys heard the basement door open before they dismissed her to watch the game, some more successfully than others. Marti remained perched on the chair for a few minutes before growing bored and drifting off with an over-practiced air of high society. Derek managed to focus on the game after a rather interesting play, but he was distracted enough to notice Casey leave sometime before it ended.

The game ended rather boringly, and George pretended he didn't have an agenda as he invited Derek into the kitchen for ice cream afterwards. As Derek slid onto the barstool with his bowl his dad watched him, until finally Derek made a 'continue' gesture that made George start in surprise. After a moment he sighed and accepted his lack of subtlety before getting to the point.

"I hate to say it, son; but you have no experience in relationships."

Derek looked at his dad, taken aback. "Dad," he said patronizingly once he had a few seconds to recover. "Get serious. What did you drag me over here to talk about?"

But his dad didn't break out into a grin like he expected. "I am serious, Derek. I've never seen you in a real relationship. With someone other than family," he added as Derek opened his mouth. Derek's mouth snapped shut, more from what George didn't know than what he had said. "And what exactly is a real relationship?" he asked instead.

His Dad gave him a look and rolled his eyes. "Look, Derek. We both know you've always been 'in with the ladies,' but this isn't high school anymore."

Derek knew his Dad was referring to his dating life in college and his lack of any actual relationships aside from Kendra. Derek had always been smooth, but his playboy tendencies seemed to increase steadily throughout his secondary education. Of course, there was a reason for that, but no one seemed to think he might be avoiding something. They just chalked it up to immaturity and he let them; as much as he wanted to ignore everything himself, it would be worse were anyone to find out.

"You need more than attraction and mild feelings to get by," George continued, breaking Derek from his thoughts. "You have to work at it. Marriage is a big deal, son."

Derek nodded understandingly. He had thought that was why his dad arranged this. "Ah, so that's it. Marriage. And Kendra."

"I'm not saying anything against Kendra," George defended. "Just make sure you'll put in the effort before you go through with this."

"Dad, I know what I'm doing," Derek assured. He was mostly convinced of that himself. Sure there were uncertainties, but what choices didn't have a grey area? He had never been the 'think things through' kind of guy, and constantly trying to figure out a situation had never suited him. Whenever he did try to work things out, it seemed to end in disaster. Everything was good now; why mess with it? "It will be fine," he finished confidently.

"Alright," George agreed warily. "Just remember what I said. Everything changes when you get married."

"Sure, Dad," Derek dismissed easily. It wasn't like he hadn't heard that two hundred times already. He was glad when his dad dropped the topic and they moved on to other things. A few hours later he realized he still had work in the morning and said a quick goodbye before heading home.

It was raining pretty badly by the time he got back to his apartment, and despite running toward the door he was completely soaked by the time he made it to the building. For once he hung his jacket on the hook, hoping it would dry by morning, and made his way to the bedroom for some dry clothes. Ten minutes later he was in flannel pants and a band shirt, running a towel over his hair as he walked toward the kitchen. Tossing the towel over a chair, he grabbed a box of pasta, clicked on the stove, and set about making lunch for the following day. It was too much effort to wake up and make it, and if that meant he had to eat microwaved food, so be it. A knock sounded at the door and he glanced up, surprised. His visitors rarely let him know in advanced, but it was ten' o'clock on a Wednesday and the rain was still pouring. Abandoning his meal, he trudged toward the door, unlocked the deadbolt and pulled it open.

"Holy shit, it's cold out here," Jenny announced, wringing her hair out on the mat and walking past a confused Derek into the living room to start wiping off her glasses.

"What are you doing here?" Derek asked when he recovered himself, annoyance evident in his tone.

"Do you expect me to drive in that?" she wondered rhetorically, rolling her eyes. "If I somehow managed to see through my glasses, I wouldn't have been able to see past the windshield."

"You mean those aren't just for show?" Derek asked sarcastically.

"No, in fact; they're not. And I don't have a key to Kendra's apartment," she added as an afterthought.

"Where is Kendra?" he asked with a sigh.

"She decided to stay the night in Toronto, take a cab back in the morning," she explained easily as she dumped her purse on the coffee table and slid off her jacket. "But I told Marti I'd pick her up for lunch tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes. Why was Jenny suddenly best friends with his baby sister? "And what, my apartment is a hotel?"

"We're practically family," she dismissed, kicking off her shoes and dropping them by the door. _Family_, he thought blandly, managing not to cringe. _Great_. He realized that he should probably pretend to be hospitable, but he wasn't really in the mood.

"I'm calling Kendra," he announced, striding over to his bedroom. Maybe she could convince her cousin to leave. Anyway, there was still a possibility that the roads were drivable.

"I already called her," Jenny announced with a hint of amusement at his efforts as she followed him into the room. "Actually, she was the one that suggested I stop by. Said to remind ' Derry' that I'd be his cousin soon, too."

He stood with one hand on the phone, searching for a way out of this. Despite Jenny winning Marti over and the fact that she was bearable in small doses, Derek did not want to deal with her any longer than necessary. Finding no solution, he sighed and announced: "You're sleeping on the couch." He was not going to give her his bed. She shrugged, unfazed. Shifting heavily, Derek pointed to the bottom drawer of his dresser.

"Find yourself something to wear," he muttered, annoyed, before walking back into the kitchen without stopping to see if she took his advice. He had managed to subdue most of his aggravation by the time she emerged in a pair of Kendra's pajama pants, secured with a tightly pulled drawstring. She appeared almost perky, and Derek vaguely wondered how someone could take absolutely everything in stride. Things got to Kendra more than they got to her.

"Do I annoy you?" she asked flippantly, leaning over the high counter separating the kitchen from the living room to watch him stir the pasta he had resumed making moments before.  
"Honestly?" he asked, glancing up. "Yes," he said frankly at her nod, turning back to his task.  
"Thought so," she announced, almost triumphant. "I have a theory as to why that is," she continued, moving into the kitchen and plopping herself into a chair.  
"I'm sure you do," Derek said offhandedly. If there was one thing to be said of Kendra's cousin, it was that she had an opinion on everything.  
"I think," Jenny announced, ignoring the interruption, "That I force you to think of things you'd rather forget. I don't drop it like my cousin."

He focused on the swirling of noodles and water, steadfastly ignoring the images that rose in his brain.

"How do you figure that?" he asked, forcing a disinterested quality to his voice.

"You didn't have a problem with me at the engagement party," she pointed out. "Well, until you freaked out and left," she added dismissively. "But when I asked a few simple questions about the past, bam, you hate me."

"You ditched my fiancée to break into my house and hit on me," Derek retorted blandly.

She shrugged. "But that's not why you don't like me," she countered easily. "And I'm honestly curious," she continued, scooting her chair to face him and crossed her legs. "What's the deal with you and my cousin?"  
"Meaning?" he asked in vaguely sardonic tones as he continued to stir his dinner.  
"You don't have real arguments, you don't discuss your problems, you don't bring up the past or let her know what's bothering you," Jenny railed off. She had obviously been paying a little too much attention. "Why are you getting married?" she ended bluntly. Derek quickly turned his head to watch her and she corrected herself. "Don't get me wrong. I love my cousin. I think you're a pretty good guy. Looks and personality," she added, flashing a grin. "But something just doesn't add up here," she continued, raising a brow. Derek wondered vaguely if it was a bad sign that two different people had questioned his marriage in one night. "Unless there's something I'm missing," she added, hinting toward the still hazy idea of their history.

"How can that topic possibly interest you that much?" he wondered, frustrated. "There's nothing ground-breaking in the past. We met in high school. We started dating. It started to get serious, but there was a lot of drama going on. We broke up, and three years later we got back together. What is possibly so interesting about that?"

"That's a lot of plot holes," she pointed out, and he rolled his eyes.

_That's because I don't want to talk about that_, he retorted in his brain. "Do you want to hear about every single date we ever went on?" he asked, half sarcastic, half exasperated.

"No. But the basic story would be nice," she said easily, watching him for a response. "So," Jenny said after a moment, turning to him with interest. She slid forward to the edge of the chair, crossing her legs professionally and propping her chin with a fist, all mock flippancy.  
"'So' nothing," Derek said firmly, using the spoon block the pasta as he drained the water from the pot.

"No, I really am interested," she persisted, her mouth half-twisted inquisitively as she raised one eyebrow, unmistakably curious for both her cousin's sake and her own desire to know.  
He ignored her as he grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and poured the pasta into it. He continued to ignore her as he dashed salt on the meal and snapped the plastic lid into place. Sliding the container to the back of the counter, he turned to face her and noted with some irritation that she was still watching him expectantly, apparently content to wait as long as necessary. Normally Derek would be perfectly happy to let her bore herself, but as reluctant as he was he knew she wouldn't leave him alone until she heard something. _Might as well make it what I want her to hear_, he decided with a mental sigh, finally moving to drop into the seat across from her. _At least that way I can ignore everything else_.

**GgGgGgGgGgGgGgGgGgGgGgGgGgGgGg **

Yeah, not completely sure how I feel about this. I was debating whether this was moving too quickly, but eventually said screw it. I'm trying to stay away from a beast of a story, and writing filler chapters won't help. And I liked the characterizations in some of it, but not throughout. But hopefully it was still okay. Tell me what you think.


	6. A Kind of a Sort of an Interrogation

Yes, I know I'm a horrible person. This update was basically pathetic in how long it took. I really did mean to update within a few days, but then it got crazy and this story slipped my mind. I did force myself to finish another chapter before I went away on vacation. Hopefully when I get back in town next Sunday I'll have the time to start updating regularly.

**Disclaimer: I got nothing.**

Jenny sat across the table, watching him with vague impatience she didn't care to disguise. "Any particular place I should start?" Derek asked sarcastically, unable to stop himself from voicing his annoyance with the situation, though he had already made it exceedingly obvious. "Or do I have permission to freehand it?" Maybe that was going a bit too far, but she was being rather demanding.

"And leave out all the good parts?" Jenny asked, a smile twitching as she raised a brow. "I don't think so. "Start at the beginning. When did it start getting serious?"

He looked at her blankly for a moment, as if wondering whether it was necessary to subject himself to this. "Sometime in high school," he answered finally, suppressing his mixed emotions into a bored tone. He would tell her the essentials and enough to keep her from asking about more, but she wasn't getting anything else from him. "Probably about the time I realized we had been dating for two months longer than I'd ever dated a girl before and I still liked hanging out with her." He had started wondering about the time of the cheating fiasco, but it hadn't really hit him until a couple months later. Derek wasn't really one to think things through, and he definitely hadn't wanted to admit he actually cared about Kendra. A lot.

Jenny nodded, pursing her lips with interest and watching him with a concentration that told him she wouldn't be forgetting his answers anytime soon. _No slipups_, he ordered himself sternly. Usually he was pretty good at avoiding slipups, but lately his mind hadn't been obeying quite as he would have liked it to.

"And you dated how long before you finally broke up?" Jenny continued, apparently content to continue chronologically.

"About two years. We broke up a few times, but nothing that lasted long." He kept his voice conversational, hoping to break the feeling of being on trial quite against his will.

"Until . . ." she began, dangling the sentence in a hint for him to fill in the blanks.

"Until spring of Senior year, when everything got too serious. She accepted an internship in New York, I was going to college here, and she expected some . . . I don't know, declaration of love or something."

"Or marriage proposal?" she asked with a smile.

He raised an eyebrow. Actually, in those last few weeks before graduation, he had started to wonder if that was exactly what Kendra wanted. "Yeah," he answered, vaguely surprised.

"I'm her cousin," Jenny reminded easily. "I know how Kendra thinks."

He nodded slightly and continued. "Well, we definitely weren't that serious back then. So I told her to move on."

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "And she . . . ."

"Took it surprisingly well," Derek filled in.

"Really?" Jenny asked, taken aback despite herself. "She didn't freak out?"

Derek shook his head. He had been rather amazed himself. At the time he had chalked it up to luck, but that was probably one of the reasons he took a while to get over her. Just another thing to drive him crazy.

"So we broke up and didn't really talk much until graduation. She called to say goodbye, then went to New York."

"Were you sad to see her go?" Jenny asked, seemingly discussing a perfect stranger rather than her cousin.

"Well, yeah. I mean, just cause I didn't want to marry her didn't mean I wanted her to leave," he replied, wondering why she was asking questions with such obvious answers. If she was just trying to make him uncomfortable, she was a far stretch from succeeding. Derek didn't like to discuss his feelings, but he had long since gotten over the mental block of talking about his relationship with Kendra. He just didn't care much for the past.

"You didn't want to marry her then, but you want to marry her now?" Jenny asked,

"Yes," Derek told her bluntly, sick of the suspicion of his motives. His dad, Jenny . . . he wondered who would be next. Though he doubted anyone could top Jenny in bluntness, except maybe Marti. He groaned mentally. The last thing he needed was his little sister getting involved in the anti-marriage movement. He might just crack.

"Okay," Jenny continued with a shrug, dropping the subject. "So you started dating again Junior year? What about your love life in between then?" she asked without waiting for confirmation. She had heard about 'Derek Venturi' at least twice a week for months, and she didn't need him to verify that he had been dating Kendra at the time.

"I dated a lot of girls during college. Nothing really groundbreaking." He shrugged, forcing himself to focus on the second semester of freshman year as the beginning of his dating life.

"Oh yes. The stereotypical male college experience. New girl every week, or could you muddle through a few extra dates?" she wondered with mock concern.

"Couldn't even make it through a week, sometimes," he admitted with a grin. It was nice to see a girl who didn't immediately condemn that for a change, no matter how bothersome she may be.

Jenny gave a light laugh, pulling her leg underneath her and leaning back in her chair. "So you went through a string of bimbos until you started dating Kendra again?" she asked with a smile.

"Basically," he shrugged, feeling slightly easier than he had through most of the conversation.

"What about before that?" she asked casually, keeping her eyes sharp for signs of a shift in Derek's countenance. Derek's easy feelings vanished as he forced himself not to stiffen. How did she catch that? He had taken to using subtle evasion tactics rather than blatant lying—no one ever paid close enough attention anyways, and it saved him from dealing with the small conscience he was at loath to admit he had developed—but apparently that wasn't working too well anymore. Still, he answered her question casually.

"I didn't date anyone after graduation. Kendra had just left, and I was kind of dealing with actually caring that she was gone." Which was true, to some degree. He could tell she didn't quite believe him, but there was nothing obviously wrong about the statement. After a moment, she moved on, looking slightly perturbed.

"Then you got back together, of course. I take it you stopped dating Playboy Bunnies?" she asked in a tone that suggested the answer better be 'yes.' Natural curiosity or not, she wasn't going to let him by messing with her cousin.

"Yes," he replied, rolling his eyes and holding back a sigh. Just because he had liked to date promiscuously didn't mean he couldn't be trusted, did it? "Actually, I had stopped most of that a few weeks before I ran into Kendra again," he added, wondering if he could make her feel guilty for the assumption. He doubted it, but it was worth a shot.

"You stopped dating random girls of your own will _before _you had another prospect lined up?" she repeated, expounding on the statement in a way that annoyed him slightly. He nodded nonetheless, boredom faintly evident around his eyes. Jenny ignored it to ask the obvious, "Why?"

"I don't know," he replied, shrugging. "I got sick of it."

"'You got sick of it?'" she repeated, lifting an appraising eyebrow.

"Yes," he said slowly, watching her oddly as if she were trying to slip him up.

"From what I hear, Derek Venturi didn't get sick of girls. Well, not of dating, at least," she amended at the obvious skepticism in the set of his brow. "Of course, attractive, confident, jock-types usually play girls like a sport, so it doesn't surprise me much. But why'd you quit? Really."

"I got sick of it," he repeated clearly, then continued almost as if he would rather not. "You know it was just . . . boring. None of them were interesting, or if they were I didn't stick around to find out. I just couldn't get into them." He shrugged again to dispel the thought, hoping it would eradicate the reason from his mind.

"Interesting," Jenny observed lightly, and Derek narrowed his eyes slightly to study her.

"Why?" he demanded casually, mind still elsewhere.

"Oh, you know. Guys like you just usually aren't that perceptive. They think half-naked women are the ticket to happiness," she explained, with an amused roll of her eyes.

"'Guys like me?'" he repeated, slightly offended.

"Oh, you know what I mean," she dismissed easily, waving her hand as if to dispel the thought. "So, after college," she said decisively, bringing the conversation back to its original purpose.

"I got an apartment and found a job. Kendra had another semester, because she had to make up the credits that didn't transfer when she came back home. And, you know, we dated for a while, it got a little more serious, and she somehow managed to make me propose of my own volition." He shrugged again, casually emphasizing the simplicity of it.

"And that's it?" she asked, skeptical.

"Yeah," he dismissed, raising an eyebrow as if to wonder why she was questioning him.

"What about just before you graduated University?" she asked coolly, giving him a pointed look for the omission.

"Just before the end of University?" Derek repeated, hoping the slight jolt in his chest and his reaction to the images that suddenly flooded his mind weren't evident in his voice. "Uh . . ." it took him a moment longer than usual to gather his thoughts, and he cursed himself when he noted the questioning furrowing of her eyebrows. "We went through a rough patch, I guess," he finally managed in a normal tone.

"Kendra said you were acting distant. She thought for sure you were going to break up with her. I mean, after I talked her out of the idea of you cheating." Derek glanced up sharply and she shrugged dismissively. "We kept in touch."

"My family was having a little trouble," he told her firmly. "I was having trouble dealing with it." She looked as if she wanted to inquire as to that as well, but his face was resolute. He had finally given up this fight, but there was only so far she could push him.

"So how old were you when your dad got remarried?" she asked instead, smiling at his confusion at the shift of topics. "Kendra didn't know you then."

"Fifteen," he said without giving any further explanation.

"Lizzie is about your brother's age, correct? Is Casey your age?"

"Yes," he replied, slightly wary.

"Didn't you guys used to fight a lot? Kendra said you were always trying to one-up each other," Jenny's mouth twisted into a small smile. "I guess you clashed from the beginning," she laughed. "You've certainly grown up, haven't you?" She knew she was prying, she had to. There was no way she had missed the polite tension between Derek and Casey over the past few weeks. Derek felt himself growing aggravated again. Just because he was marrying her cousin didn't give her the right to try and mess with his brain. Noting the perturbed look on his face, she backtracked.

"So why did you always fight? Rebellion against an unwanted marriage?" she asked with a grin. They were still on the topic of Casey, which he would much rather steer clear of, but at least this was safe territory. Fighting and arguing and pranking; the days when things were easy.

Once those days were gone he had found it impossible to block thoughts of her, a fact that irked him to no end. He had spent his whole life learning to lie, both to others and to himself. He was a master at avoidance, and used his skills frequently. But Casey just had to mess everything up. Again.

"I don't know," he said in response to Jenny's question. "It was fun, I guess."

"So you're the sadistic type? Torturing people for fun?" she asked easily, once again twitching a smile.

"People? No. Casey? Yes."

Jenny nodded, shifting herself in her chair in a manner that seemed to signal she had gotten what she wanted to hear. A satisfied air hung about her, but for all the pestering she had done, Jenny showed none of the aggravating displays of accomplishment he had expected. She watched him appraisingly for a moment, which was vaguely aggravating in its own right, before shifting her position, smoothly swinging her legs back under the table and leaning her face in her palm. He lifted a confused eyebrow, as she quirked her head to one side to look at him.  
"I used to hate Kendra," she stated factually, as if it fit perfectly with their line of conversation.  
"What?" he asked, not even attempting to hide his incomprehension.  
"I hated her." she repeated simply. "With a passion. Used to drive our mothers crazy."  
"What the hell?" he asked, growing frustrated. "What does that have to do with anything?"  
"We're getting to know each other. You shared your life story; I figured the least I can do is return the favor." She neglected to mention her role in forcing that history, but Derek dismissed it as implied, though not without internal muttering that did little to flatter Jenny.  
He glared at her. "Somehow, it doesn't seem quite the same. Unless you'd like to share some dark embarrassing moment of your past." Okay, he hadn't shared anything truly embarrassing, but it wasn't exactly and enjoyable conversation.  
"I might get there. But for now, the basics." She sighed as he continued to look pissed off. "Okay, maybe an inquisition wasn't the best way to start. But you made it, didn't you? Besides, you might find out something interesting." He doubted it, but resigned himself to listen nonetheless.

"This dislike was almost instantaneous," she continued easily. "By the time we were in diapers my mother couldn't even babysit for my aunt without Kendra leaving in tears. So it was probably a good thing we lived a few hours apart. High school didn't help. I've always been a little too opinionated, and Kendra can't take blunt comments. At least, not ones that insult her," Jenny said with hints of amusement. Derek raised an eyebrow, by no means invested, but at least mildly interested. Besides, he knew the validity of Jenny's observation. "Then she went to New York. And I was ecstatic, naturally. But about a month in, she needed my mom's help with some design test or something. She studied graphic design, back in the stone ages," Jenny added, though Derek could quite easily infer that himself. "My mom is hopeless with the computer, so I had to relay messages. And it turns out, we actually started liking each other. I went up to visit her at the end of the summer: hung out at the magazine, went shopping, checked out Broadway . . . and at the end of the trip, we were actually friends. Kind of crazy, but hey." She shrugged as if to say, 'why not?'

For some reason, something about that clicked in the back of Derek's brain, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what. She continued before he could dwell on it.

"So here we are, seven years later, and I've connived to become her Maid of Honor. Not as much fun as I would have liked, but you know. I'll muddle through, so long as she keeps some hint of sanity. Which seems to be improving, of late," she added in regards to Kendra's sanity, shooting Derek a slightly appreciative look. He didn't know quite what he had to do with it, but accepted the acknowledgement with a shrug. "Well," Jenny said abruptly, standing and stretching. "It's almost eleven, and I want some sleep. You have any extra pillows floating around here?" Derek rolled his eyes. She managed almost an entire conversation relatively normally, then she just drops the whole thing after weeks of pestering. _Crazy_, he repeated to himself as he walked to his bedroom to rummage through the closet, emerging two minutes later to toss a pillow and blanket at Jenny. She disappeared back into the living room, and he climbed into bed as the lights clicked off. He couldn't help but feel vaguely disconcerted as he lay in bed, and the thoughts swirling through his mind made sleep hard to come by. When he finally drifted off, Derek's subconscious attacked him once more.

_He was standing behind the couch, rolling his eyes as Nora fooled with the camera._

"_Just one more," she promised as she attempted to change the film with one hand and balance Casey's roses in the other._

"_I want one with Smerek!" Marti cried, abandoning her seat by Lizzie and Edwin to clamber over the back of the couch and clasp her brother around the neck, ordering her still-fumbling stepmother to take a picture. A stifled giggle sounded to his left, and Derek rolled his eyes as he managed to situate his sister in his grasp. Glancing beside him at his stepsister, who was still trying not to laugh at his expense, Derek reached casually around her shoulder to tug on the tassel hanging from her cap. Casey's mouth fell open in mock anger as her cap tilted askew, turning to him before he managed to remove his hand from the tassel. He grinned as she planted her hands firmly on her hips, but the diatribe was cut short by a bright flash. When the dots cleared, they were both looking at Nora, who smiled and announced, "Just one more."_

**_---_**

_He had somehow been roped into taking the kids to the pool. How he didn't know, but he was feeling ridiculously abused at the usurpation of his summer vacation. Besides, wasn't he supposed to be the irresponsible one? "Move over," came the demanding voice behind him as he attempted to find Marti's flip flop, which had mysteriously vanished under the seat. Removing his head from the car, Derek banged his head on the door as his eyes drifted sideways._

"_What are you doing here?" he asked, mildly perturbed, as he recovered from the sight and glared at Casey across the parking space._

"_I got home early, so mom dropped me off. You didn't really think they trusted _you _at the pool with three kids, did you?" It was a rhetorical question, and she didn't bother waiting for an answer before shoving past him and leaning into the car to find the shoe that eluded her stepbrother. He wished she had put on a longer skirt, and maybe some kind of shirt as well. But definitely the skirt, he reiterated as he attempted to focus on the arm digging under the seat. It took barely a minute for her to find what had eluded him for ten, and soon she had pushed herself up on the seat and emerged from the car. _

"_Here you go, Marti," she told the little girl, walking toward the hood to hand it to the little girl. Marti chirped a quick "thanks" as she stuffed her little foot into the sandal and skipped off toward the gate. "Derek, you coming?" Casey asked over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow at his failure to move. He nodded briefly, slamming the door shut and grabbing the bag of towels before he followed everyone toward the pool entrance, banging his head against the proverbial wall the entire way._

_**---**_

_The house was silent as he crept through the living room, kicking his shoes off at the stairs and padding toward the kitchen. He wasn't _that _late, but Nora tended to be both more precise than his Dad and heavier with the punishment. If he got caught, he could always say he just wanted something to eat. He flicked on the light without slowing his feet, jumping slightly as a figure slowly materialized. He hadn't heard her tonight._

"_Jeeze, Casey. Trying to give me a heart attack? What are you doing down here?"_

"_Working," she replied without glancing up from her notebooks. _

"_Working on what?" he asked, grabbing a soda and coming around to slide onto the stool next to her. As he glanced over her shoulder, she sighed, making one last scribble._

"_You're past curfew," she said plainly, finally setting down her pen and looking up at him._

"_Yeah," admitted, completely unrepentant. _

_She watched him resolutely for another moment before rolling her eyes and reclaiming the pen. "One of these days, my mom is going to catch you." She knew as well as he that his dad would make a show of punishing him and forget about it within a few days._

"_Maybe," he shrugged. He was still surprised that Casey didn't take it upon herself to rat him out, but they had reached an understanding somewhere at the beginning of the summer: he wouldn't do anything stupid and she wouldn't rat him out. Of course, it wasn't a concrete arrangement. Casey would never admit to breaking the rules, and he would never admit to following them. But still, she chose not to inform Nora when he was out late, and he would often return to find her sitting at the island in the kitchen or working in the living room. He always pretended he didn't expect her, just as she pretended it was simply a coincidence. _

"_So . . .?" he asked as he leaned over her shoulder, hinting at the still unanswered question._

"_I'm making an organization plan," she stated factually, as if daring him to make fun of her. Of course, he couldn't help but rise to the occasion._

"_Organization plan? Wow, Case; I had no idea you're social life was that pitiful. Why didn't you tell me?" he wondered with mock concern. He laughed as she rolled her eyes and studied the notebook more closely. "So what are we organizing?" he wondered patronizingly. "And why does organization need a plan?" he added after a moment, lifting his brow in curious amusement. _

"_I promised Mr_. _Lassiter_ _I'd organize the extra curricular room before school starts back up."_

_He raised one eyebrow and looked at Casey disbelievingly before breaking out into a laugh. "Still kissing up to Mr. L, huh, Case? Didn't anyone tell you?" He leaned down to hover over her shoulder. "School's over," he stage whispered, grinning as she tilted her head to glare at him before returning to work._

"_Can I help it that I have standards?" she asked superiorly, crossing her arms and turning toward him as he leaned back into his original position. "I don't want to leave the next Workroom Assistant to wonder what a slob Casey McDonald was." With that, she turned sharply back to her notebook and started writing again._

"_If you're so organized, why is it messy in the first place?" he wondered as he watched her work._

"_Because the teachers refused to follow my system," she said pointedly, irritation evident for the staff. _

_Derek shook his head and stood. "I'm sure you'll have them straightened out soon enough," he told her, rolling his eyes. Grabbing the extra pencil on the countertop, he used it to flick one of Casey's curls into the air as he passed, tossing the pencil next the coffee pot as he walked to the stairs. "Later, Casey." _

"_Night, Derek," she mumbled, glancing over her __shoulder to watch him go before steadfastedly glancing down once more._

_More flashes. More scenes of the past, manifest. One thought drifted through the pattern in his subconscious: "Where's Kendra?"_

**CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC**

It was an extra page, typed, so maybe that will make people hate me less  Maybe not. Alright, yada yada, not sure about this; yada yada, let me know about characterizations and such. Please tell me what you think. Love you all.


	7. Unwanted Presence

Again, so so sorry for the wait. I was all prepared to write another chapter—possibly two, if you can imagine—but I watched the new Kendra episode (way back when) and it kind of killed my inspiration. And then I went away. And then, lo and behold, I was inspired on the wrong part of the story. I should really just stop promising new chapters; it's likely you'll get them faster if I don't have a deadline. But regardless, my inspiration is resuscitating, and I've written you some more. Hopefully it's not too AU now (I can always play off their breakup as a temporary thing, right?). Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: What's in ownership? A TV show, if owned by any other company, still isn't mine.**

Derek awoke feeling an irritating mixture of disconcertion and befuddlement. In the month and a half since he'd started having those dreams, not once had the memory disregarded Kendra. It was Jenny's fault, he decided with a grumble as he pulled himself out of bed, smacked off his alarm, and trudged toward the closet. He was doing just fine before she had shown up, but she had to go play catalyst and dredge up Casey. Sure their conversation had centered around Kendra, but she had pressed the right buttons when it came to his stepsister, and he was sure she knew it.

Grabbing a set of clothes and moving toward the bathroom, Derek attempted to gather his thoughts. Concentrating on shaving usually distracted him fairly well, and if that failed there was always the comfort of a hot shower, but despite managing to push his thoughts to the back of his mind, Derek had the unwanted suspicion that they could still pop up at any moment.

Buttoning his shirt and roughly tousling his wet hair, Derek gave a decisive nod and flicked off the bathroom light. He was greeted by the expected silence as he moved through the house and finally entered the kitchen. The woman sitting on the stool, however, threw him for a moment.

"Coffee?" Jenny asked, raising her own steaming mug along with a questioning eyebrow. "I made extra."

Shaking his frown at the fact that she had rummaged through his kitchen unwarranted, he glanced at her, then at the clock. Fully dressed and typing away at her laptop at 8 am.

"Why are you up?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"Because it's _morning_," she replied easily, laughing at the look on his face. Apparently deciding to humor him, she expounded. "Why waste the day away? There are more important things to be doing than sleeping. Like drinking coffee. And getting the latest juice," she said, gesturing to her laptop, which he saw was opened to her email. "So I ran to the car for my laptop and the good coffee. I figured it was only fair, after all your hospitality." He couldn't decide whether or not she was being facetious, so he chose to ignore her statement and pour himself a mug of coffee, grumbling to himself about morning people. And if she had the energy to run out to the car, why hadn't she left yet?

"And anyways," she continued with a grin. "I can officially make you coffee now. _We bonded_," she finished in a stage whisper, winking at him. Snorting, Derek raised a skeptical brow.

"Is that what you want to call it?" he wondered sarcastically, but he somehow managed to leave it at that. She wasn't quite as bad now that she had gotten her answers; at least she wasn't pestering him anymore. Still crazy, though.

"Well, whatever you want to call it, it qualifies me to caffeinate you in the morning." Derek didn't really see how that matched up, but he was used to such leaps in logic; he wasn't Marti's brother for nothing. Speaking of . . . .

"Didn't you say something about picking Marti up?" he asked, glancing at her as he started downing his coffee. He always ran late in the mornings, so he generally finished his coffee in a few sips. Checking the clock, he saw that today was no different.

"Lunch at 8 am? Not quite," she replied with a laugh as she set down her mug with finality. "But I can see where I'm not wanted-" somehow, he doubted that; she had been unwanted for weeks "-so I'll just get out of here." Snapping her laptop shut she slid it into her oversized purse, which she proceeded to sling over her shoulder as she stood. "But I'm sure you're not rid of me yet," she added teasingly as she dropped the mug in the sink and moved toward the door. "The women in your life like me too much." At that, she pulled open the door and slipped outside.

Derek grumbled at her last words, agreeing with her far too much, but his irritation was minor. She had left painlessly and didn't pester him in his rush before work. Maybe he could learn to deal with her. With a glance at his watch, he finished his last sip of coffee, dropping the mug beside Jenny's as he reached for a clean thermos. Dumping the rest of the pot into it, he screwed on the cap as he walked back to his office for his bag and jogged back to the front door. Fumbling with the key in the lock, he looked briefly to his watch again. Damn it, he was late.

If Derek were to say that Kendra dropping by mid-morning was rather unexpected, if not wholly unwelcome, his lunch break was a shock. He should have expected it, really, with the week that he'd been having, but he had figured he had gotten most of the stress out of the way for a bit. Not so. Between the two groups of women in his life, he was sure he'd be driven insane before too much longer passed. The first, much more manageable, arrived just after twelve thirty with as much fanfare as an office permitted.

"Who do you love?" Derek heard from around the corner just before he saw his little sister appear, a bag of food preceding her outstretched hand.

"Marti," he replied with a pleased grin as he shoved his cold pasta into the garbage.

"And her chauffeur," Jenny added as she too rounded the corner, quirking a grin as she noted the slightly souring look on Derek's face.

_Right. Meeting Marti for lunch_, he remembered with a sigh.

"Oh, come on," Jenny wheedled playfully as Marti handed him the bag. "We've shared deep, heartfelt conversation and I'm bringing you food. There's no way we _can't_ be friends now."

Derek raised an eyebrow, suppressing a sarcastic response, but allowed a hint of a grin. He supposed he could at least give her a chance, given that she came bearing food. A small chance at that, he amended stubbornly as he focused steadily on the meal rather than the thoughts he had been repressing all morning.

"The date for the play's set," Marti announced, purposely ignoring the obvious undertones her brother's expression. He looked up at her, fully taking in her appearance for the first time that morning. Ballet flats, straight skirt, nice sweater and a simple ribbon to pull back her hair. He hadn't expected her to give up her quest, but the sight still made him smile at his sister's quirks.

"I'm marking your calendar," she announced unnecessarily as she pulled a marker from her noticeably daintier purse and moved across to where the rarely used item hung.

"Like I'm going to miss it," he smirked, rolling his eyes.

"I know I have you wrapped," Marti told him plainly, turning to grin at him over her shoulder, "But it's always fun to remind you."

Derek shook his head to avoid admitting the truth of her words and Marti laughed as she finished writing and capped her pen. Walking softly toward him, she bent to press a sloppy kiss to his cheek, leaning against his shoulder long enough to cheekily intone, "I love my Smerek."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, rolling his eyes, but he was smiling.

"Aw," Jenny broke in jokingly. "I love you guys, too."

Glancing at her with mild irritation, Derek forced down his dislike of people commenting on his soft spot for Marti. It was bad enough that people saw it regularly.

"Well," Marti announced, sensing the unspoken discomfort. "We just wanted to drop that by. But I'm crashing at your place sometime soon, okay?" She didn't even wait for Derek's affirmation before waving Jenny out the door, calling, "Don't let Kendra drive you crazy," over her shoulder. Derek watched as Marti turned toward into the hall, and was almost as surprised as she when she suddenly hit a solid object. The second of his two problems, or at least the cause of it. His stepmother, Nora. Followed closely by Casey.

"Marti," Nora managed, sounded almost as surprised as Derek felt, though without the uncertain twist he barely managed to control. "What are you doing here?" Gathering her thoughts, she asked sternly, "Are you skipping school?"

"Skipping school? Me?" Marti asked, managing to sound completely innocent despite the sarcastic words. "No, Nora; it's my lunch break. And now I'm headed back. Bye, Nora, Casey," she called, heading to the left where Derek could barely see Jenny still hovering.

"Hey, Derek," Nora smiled as she moved into the room. Casey followed her easily, but there was an unmistakable sense of formality to her air. "We were just out to lunch down the street and I thought it would be nice if we brought you something. Casey wasn't too keen on the idea," she added with a laugh, obviously finding it rather amusing. "If you two weren't so nice to each other, I'd swear you still don't get along," she joked, to which Casey crossed her arms firmly and Derek managed a faint smile. "But I guess Marti beat us to it."

"Sorry," Derek shrugged. "You could always try Dad. He's not quite as popular," he added with an easy smirk.

"Oh, no," Nora dismissed easily, moving to set the box on his desk. "It's just a sandwich; it'll keep. Save it for tomorrow, maybe."

"Sure," Derek accepted, pushing the box further back on the table. With any luck they were just dropping that off.

Apparently they were, because Casey gave him a polite, "Have a good afternoon," and moved toward the door.

"Ooh, what are you working on?" Nora asked, moving toward his computer and stopping Casey's trajectory. She didn't stop by often, and her disconnection with his business life made her curious.

"Nothing much," he told her, hoping that would deter her. When he noted the failure of his plan, he moved aside to let her look at the screen. Casey fell back into the doorway, moving only so close as decorum required.

"Are you still liking work?" she asked, causing him to glance away from her mother and back again.

"It's alright," he answered, letting his gaze rest on Casey once more. "Some days are great, others . . . not so much." He shrugged, eyes moving to watch Nora examining his screen, as she nodded. "What about you?" he asked without turning.

"Oh, you know. It's not as interesting as what you do, but I like it." He nodded, studying her form from the corner of his eye. "It's important," she added with the hint of a smile, and he caught the unexpected challenge. _More important_. He checked his grin; once, the addition would have been voiced, but now even the sentiment was unusual. Things like that, even implied, were far too often missing from their conversations. Her guard was down, at least somewhat.

"Of course," he replied, adding just enough for her to catch the 'yeah right,' in his words. Casey faintly raised an eyebrow, obviously contemplating whether to continue the unspoken exchange or to let it drop as she usually did. Derek would have sworn her mouth was about to open again when Nora straightened and glanced back at them. Anything Casey might have said died in her still-closed mouth, and Derek firmly checked himself again.

"Well, this is great, Derek," his stepmother told him with the air of someone who wanted to be helpful but hadn't the faintest clue what they had been looking at. "And I'm glad we got to stop by. We don't see you enough," she continued with a smile. Derek smiled back at her; Nora really did try, and he couldn't say he didn't appreciate it sometimes. When she wasn't interrupting unspoken conversations. Though despite his disappointment, Nora's interruption was probably for the better. "But I don't want to keep you, and I'm sure Casey has to get back to work. But I'm going to give Kendra a call," she warned lightly. "You two need to come home for dinner so we can catch up. You're too busy with the wedding to see us as much as Casey does, so we'll have to make you." She grinned. "Goodbye, Derek."

He raised a hand in farewell as Casey murmured a quick, "Bye," and slipped out after her mother. Derek sat for a good two minutes before a scuffling in the hallway and a faint murmur brought him out of the self-piteous daze. Shaking his head, he attempted to return to his meal, already knowing that there was no hope of quiet thoughts that evening.

**SSSSSSssssssSSSSSS**

Okay, I'm going to stop it there because it seems like a good place to stop. And then I can work out how I want the next bit to fall out (I know, I should have that by now, right?). And since I'm away at school now, I really don't expect the next one to take so long. I feel horrible for abandoning this for the summer. But if anyone out there's still with me, let me know what you think, please!


	8. Dinner for Nine

I don't know if it's this story, or just my mental state this year (probably the latter), but I seem unable to stick with it. And unfortunately, my schedules gives me less free time this semester. Terribly sorry to keep doing this long absence thing. But I really do have an outline, and I will do my best to keep cranking out chapters. Feel free to yell if I'm taking too long, which I'm apparently bound to do.

**Disclaimer: 'Tis what I'tis.**

This was not going to be a pleasant evening. Standing and moving toward the door where he could hear the shift of the lock, Derek briefly wondered how almost a week and a half had managed to pass. He had almost wished the work week would continue, much as he hated the structure of it, but Saturday had arrived and it refused to let him off the hook.

The doorknob finally turned and Derek grinned at the sight of Kendra, turned away from him and attempting to stuff the key back into her purse, pushing open the door with her hip. Finally managing to contain the offending item, she brushed the hair out of her eyes and graced him with a smile, absently closing the door and looking him up and down.

"Well don't you look good tonight," she intoned pleasantly, walking toward him and pushing herself to her toes in order to kiss him. Derek pulled her in as he kissed her back before allowing her to settle back onto her heels.

"You're not too bad, yourself," he muttered appreciatively as he glanced down at her. He had no idea how this had managed to evolve into a semi-formal affair, but his resentment of the fact was tempered by the fact that Kendra looked fantastic in her little black dress. Slightly tempered, at least.

"New earrings," she announced, swishing her head so they sparkled as they moved.

He nodded his approval, though he really didn't care much about the earrings, and used the opportunity to kiss her again.

"Nice," he smiled as he pulled away. Kendra returned the grin as she grabbed his arm and led him toward the door.

"Come on," she told him with a playful roll of her eyes. "We don't want to be late."

"Kendra, it's just dinner with my family. You've eaten over there a thousand times."

"Yes," she told him with obvious accommodations for his male mentality, "but this is _different_."

"How?" he asked her pointedly, but she merely shook her head and pulled him out the door.

They did, in fact, manage to arrive at least three minutes before seven, which not only seemed to convince Kendra that the evening would go well, but also quite shocked Nora. She opened the door with a surprised glance at her watch before ushering them into the obviously freshly cleaned living room.

Derek couldn't help a small snort at the air of pretension around the evening. Family dinners were supposed to be loud and casual, but of course this one promised to be awkward. The fact that Kendra was his fiancée now by no means gave Nora the right to try to make this a formal occasion. _And why did she have to invite _Jenny he added with a mental sigh. At least Kendra's cousin wasn't there yet.

"Derek!" his dad greeted heartily as he emerged from the kitchen, passing his wife, who had apparently been expecting them later and needed to finish up some things. Derek grinned. None of the kids were downstairs yet either; it was kind of fun catching them off guard. "So you've decided finally to grace our humble abode. What's it been, months, years?"

Derek rolled his eyes and brushed off the question with a grin. "How's it going, Dad?"

"Oh, you know. Busy day."

"Cleaning?" Derek asked rhetorically.

His dad grinned and shrugged. "That was mostly the kids, but Nora wouldn't let me off completely." He said it with a sense of false self-pity, but his smile made it clear he didn't mind too much. "And how are you, Kendra? It really has been forever since we've seen you."

"Oh, I'm fabulous, George," Kendra replied, grinning. Derek glanced down and grinned as well. One of the best things about Kendra was her enthusiasm; he never had to guess what she was thinking.

George nodded, but his reply was interrupted by a sudden bout of noise from the upper hallway.

With the way Edwin thundered easily down the stairs, Lizzie following slightly more gracefully after, Derek never would have guessed his little brother would soon be graduating from University. Of course, Derek himself hadn't grown up overmuch either, so he really couldn't talk, but he still shook a rueful head at his little brother.

"Bro," Edwin greeted, coming to a stop in front of Derek. "How's it going?"

"Hey, Derek," Lizzie greeted easily, coming to a stop next to Edwin.

"Hey guys," he greeted, bumping Edwin in the shoulder with one hand while bestowing a brief one-armed hug on Lizzie.

"Kendra," Edwin nodded acknowledgement as Lizzie smiled a greeting at her. Kendra returned the gesture, then glanced up as the sound of heels graced the stairs.

"Marti, look at you!" Kendra enthused with just a hint of a squeal. Marti descended with a bemused grin in a pale pink knee length dress and matching heels. Edwin and Lizzie laughed; while Kendra usually adored Marti, she hadn't made it a secret that she didn't agree with her bold fashion choices. "You look so grown up!" Derek's fiancée continued. Then, in a conspiratory manner, she added, "Did you meet a _boy_?"

Derek rolled his eyes. Much as he disliked the idea, even if Marti had met a boy Kendra should know better than that. Like his sister would change for _anyone_.

"No," Marti replied with the barest hint of exasperation. "Just trying something new," she explained, obviously preferring to leave it at that.

"I thought this was just for the week?" Derek grinned as Marti smiled with a hint of mischief. That was never good, but Derek couldn't help but laugh in response.

"I thought I could use a bit more practice. You know, I don't have a _classic personality_." Her eyes darted toward the kitchen as she flourished the words, and Derek couldn't help but raise a brow suspiciously.

Narrowing his eyes at his sister, Derek wondered how to voice the question so Marti might actually answer it. His opportunity was snatched away by the ringing of the doorbell, and a whole new set of greetings as Jenny hugged Kendra, introduced herself to Lizzie, Edwin and George, casually greeted Derek and exchanged a secretive smile with Marti. Derek had to admit that his encounters with Jenny had improved over the week, but he couldn't shake the suspicion that she was still up to something.

Soon they had all settled onto the various pieces furniture in the front room. The fact that everyone was in semi-casual attire lent a certain oddness to the setting, but so far the awkwardness Derek had predicted stayed fairly suppressed. It would be, at least, an evening away from wedding planning, Derek mused. Though, he amended, he was sure they would talk about it enough to drive him insane. But as Nora quartered herself in the kitchen, the topic had yet to come up when footsteps behind him told Derek that she was coming to announced dinner.

"Time for dinner," came the soft yet slightly strained voice of, not his stepmother, but his stepsister.

Derek whipped his head around as the rest of the room's occupants started standing.

"Oh. Casey. Uh," Derek fumbled slightly in surprise before managing a fairly normal, "Hey."

"Hello, Derek," Casey returned, wiping clean hands on her fairly clean apron and smiling slightly stiffly.

"Casey!" Kendra broke in enthusiastically, breaking the awkward tension that Derek doubted she had picked up on. "I didn't know you were coming tonight!"

As Casey turned to Kendra, her stance seemed to become more natural. "I've just been helping Mom in the kitchen," she explained as Nora emerged from the kitchen, as if to punctuate her words.

"Of course Casey's here," she said warmly as she set a giant bowl in the middle of the table. "She's family, too."

_Of course_, Derek couldn't help but add to himself with a hint of irony.

With a shake of her head, Nora moved back to the kitchen to finish transferring the meal to the table.

"I'd better help her," Casey told them, heading after her mother as the rest of the family moved across the room to sit at the table. Derek sat at his usual spot across from Casey's and repeated his earlier sentiments with a sigh. This was not going to be a fun evening.

"I can't believe I haven't taken you to see it yet," Kendra was saying, glancing around the living room at a fairly interested Nora, a bored Lizzie, a doubtful Marti and a politely nodding Casey. Dinner had finished long before, and everyone had adjourned to the front room to catch up. "It's so pretty when it's decorated. Jenny and I went to see a wedding there a few days ago, and I just _loved_ it," she punctuated the statement with an emphatic hand gesture, and Derek tried his best to look interested despite the fact that she wasn't paying him any mind. Jenny, however, glanced over and stifled a knowing laugh at the look on his face, to which he rolled his eyes and glanced over at his dad and Edwin. They appeared slightly worse off; his Dad, though long gone, was nodding every few seconds while Edwin looked like he was contemplating suicide.

"And we're having white roses with yellow accents," Kendra continued on in ignorance of the less than enthusiastic crowd. "But I haven't quite decided on the entire color scheme yet."

Glancing sideways at her sister and youngest stepbrother, who seemed to be considering a covert distraction of some kind, Casey kindly interjected, "Blue's a good color for you. What about sapphire?"

Kendra beamed at the input, but both women's gazes flickered briefly to Derek when he snorted quietly.

"Something wrong, Der?" Kendra asked graciously. She was obviously in her zone and not ready to let anything affect her.

"Of course, not, Kendra," he told her with a forced smile, fighting a desire to say more.

"Okay," she accepted with only a hint of dubiousness, smiling faintly at him. Casey hastily turned back to Kendra and opened her mouth to continue with the forced compliments.

Derek could feel his old irritations rising, and before he could stop himself he had muttered, "But seriously, dark blue in a wedding?"

"It's called _sapphire_, Derek," Casey told him without turning, false politeness interlaced with her tone. "It's a rich and beautiful color that would look wonderful in small quantities and give the insinuation of color to the room."

Derek rolled his eyes, but before he could rebut Kendra turned to him with a slightly pleased smile, obviously choosing to ignore the underlying tones of the exchange.

"We don't have to use sapphire, Derek. Casey was just making a suggestion. I was really thinking more of a very soft pink. It would look good with the yellow and white, wouldn't it?" She was watching him expectantly, obviously wanting an answer now that he had involved himself in the conversation.

"I don't know, Kendra," he sighed distractedly, releasing his festering resentment into the air before turning his full attention to his fiancée. "Whatever you want is fine, really."

"Are you sure?" she asked, mouth tightening slightly but tone still light. "I mean, if you have an opinion about this, maybe we should go over some of the other details and make sure you're okay with them. I mean, it _is_ your wedding, too."

Derek shrugged, and Kendra stared at him for a moment before returning to her conversation with Casey, who seemed bent on ignoring her stepbrother's interruption completely. Kendra, however, didn't seem able to fully invest herself in the conversation again. Every few minutes, she would glance over at her fiancée, who was slouching further and further into his chair. After ten minutes of this, Kendra stopped listening to Nora, who had involved herself in the discussion as well, and turned purposefully toward her fiancée.

"Look. Derek." Kendra was obviously frustrated, and what was probably a well-meaning chastisement was quickly becoming an argument starter. "I know that planning a wedding isn't exactly one of your interests. But could you pretend to care about what I have to say for just _one night_?"

He glanced up, his mind startled from its wanderings, and registered her sentence with a hint of anger. It wasn't like he didn't care about _Kendra_, he was just sick of the _wedding_. _She should already know that_, he rationalized to himself as he proceeded to tell her as much in what he hoped weren't biting tones.

"'_Sick of the wedding_?'" she repeated in scandalized tones, as McDonald-Venturis began to pick up on the brewing fight and shift about uneasily. Derek knew how Kendra was interpreting that sentence, but his irritation wouldn't allow him to correct her. He didn't really know why he felt so angry right then, but if he were honest with himself it had very little to do with Kendra and quite a bit to do with another occupant of the room.

"_Yes_," he said shortly instead, as Kendra simply gaped.

"So, you guys have a bathroom around here?" Jenny asked in a surprisingly subtle attempt to diffuse the tension in the room.

"It's upstairs," Nora told her, but the rest of the room ignored her directions as they watched the young couple with barely hidden interest. Jenny muttered a quick, "Thanks," before slipping from her chair and heading up the stairs with only a few surreptitious glances behind her. No one would have been surprised to see her stop at the top of the stairway and duck her head back toward the living room.

"Then why are we getting married?" Kendra asked irrationally, throwing a furious look at Derek.

"I don't know," he said, throwing his hand up in frustration. It wasn't true, but he was so sick of the evening he just needed an outlet. A distraction.

Kendra looked at him, hurt flashing across her face before she bit her lip and stiffened her features into a scowl.

"If that's what you want, then whatever," she said, standing with forced indifference and crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "I don't see why I thought it would work anyway. You always do this, Derek. You act like everything is fine and just quit when it gets hard." Derek felt guilt flash through him, and by the look on her face he could tell she was thinking of all their breakups to date. Most of them _were_ his fault, and they _had_ been immature, in part. Still, what right did she have to blame _him_ for everything? He always had his reasons, whether she was privy to them or not. He glared at her, but it was half-hearted.

"Fine," Kendra ground out. "Whatever." She averted her gaze for the first time from Derek's face and seemed to note that they had an audience. And that it was Derek's family. She appeared to contemplate her options for a moment, then jerked her head decisively. With an exaggerated huff, Kendra turned on her heel and stalked out the front door.

**KKKKKKKKKKKKKK**

Okay, I hope you like it. I though it was a bad chapter, which is mainly why it's taken so long, but I've made some changes and hopefully made it better. And more interesting. So. Yeah. And I hope the characterizations are still okay, but I may have gotten out of the rhythm of things. Let me know what you think. I'm not promising the next chapter now, so hopefully that will speed me onward.


	9. A New Side to the Story

Sorry this took so long guys. Aside from the usual excuses, I did actually write this chapter about six weeks ago, but I was really unhappy with it and couldn't figure out why. Sad as it is, time lets me read it more objectively, so I'm much more pleased with it now (though, as always, not totally satisfied). And I can assure you this chapter and the next one are a million times better than they would otherwise have been. Please accept my offering of two new chapters, chock full of important happenings, and don't kill me. cowers

**Disclaimer: 'T'ain't mine.**

Casey was not impressed. At one time the sight would have invoked a plethora of emotions—in fact, she had been almost ecstatic in her humor at Derek's comical behavior during their first real breakup—but she learned long ago to stop hoping that "for good" meant more than a few weeks, a few months at most. Not that she had a reason to hope, exactly.

Sure enough, some fifteen minutes later she saw Derek sigh from the corner of her vision. Rolling his eyes, he heaved himself lethargically out of the chair and silently followed his fiancée out the door. An ironic knowing twisted Casey's mouth as she turned back to finish gathering the dishes balanced haphazardly around the dining room table.

She found herself more accepting of the engagement than she would have thought, though that by no means allowed her any respite. In fact, she was even glad of it in some ways. It gave her more reason to stay resolute, to let her sensible, organized side rule her actions rather than indulging in the past. Not that she had ever let it get to her before; at least, not where anyone was present. And really, she did like Kendra, if only on a surface level. Maybe they could be friends, someday. If Casey could manage to actually talk to Derek without all those barriers she had invented years before and never managed to eradicate. They had been necessary, then, but now they simply made things tense, and Casey found herself feeling guilty whenever she gave herself a normal moment in Derek's presence.

It wasn't that she was _ruled _by the past, exactly. It was just that she based her life on avoiding its ramifications.

And though it twisted her stomach to think of it, Casey wouldn't let herself forget. Despite herself, there was always a subtle ache when she thought about what had happened; which was, she constantly reminded herself, why she had to remain so conscientious. There was no telling what might happen if she weren't on her guard.

Casey sighed as dropped the dishes into the suds in the sink, waving off her mother's questioning look of concern as she grabbed a sponge and started to scrub.

"You know, Mom, I can handle this if you want to get started on something else." She glanced up at Nora and gave her a reassuring smile, knowing her mother was itching to find where everyone had slipped off to. But more so, Casey wanted to have a reprieve from this pretension, however subtle it may be.

"Are you sure?" Nora asked, but already knowing the answer, she continued with a small smile. "Thanks, Casey. I really want to find Marti. I just know she's either angry or, well, calculating after . . . you know," she ended awkwardly before recovering with a small smile. Patting Casey's arm thankfully as she passed, Nora disappeared into the front room; Casey heard her voice drifting up the stairs and allowed herself to relax, closing her eyes and letting out a tension-filled breath before attacking the plate with renewed vigor.

She couldn't stop herself from thinking, but she didn't really try. Wallowing usually helped. A little. _If only it were really over_, Casey thought, betraying her earlier rationalizations. Things were so much better when Kendra wasn't around. Not that it was Kendra's fault, really.

But despite everything, Casey had always remembered the summer after graduation as a truly wonderful time; the best, even, maybe. It wasn't that they had graduated, or that they were off to college. It wasn't even that Kendra was finally gone—which Casey hadn't admitted to wishing for—even though it was doubtful Derek and Casey would have become friends as they had if Kendra were in the picture. It was that for the first time, Casey understood Derek a little bit. And she felt that maybe he had understood her, too; though all she gained from it was Derek's annoying tendency to know exactly how to rile her up, then come through for her when she least expected it. Which was really not the best of things, when she thought about it.

Casey let her mouth twist in frustration as she dried the last dish and set it on the counter absently. She couldn't have picked a worse time or place to be thinking about it. After an awkward family dinner, probably over-done politeness about the wedding, and the blow-out earlier, in which she suspected she wasn't entirely blameless—though really, it _was_ Derek's fault—she should be doing everything in her power to forget about everything. Really, she would be doing everything in her power to extricate herself from the situation if she didn't know that any attempt to leave would place her in the middle of the rest of Kendra's breakdown or an altogether avoidable make-up.

"So all that's left is to remind myself of why I'm doing this," she murmured with mustered calm.

It was really such a simple thing that started their downward spiral. An argument, because it was them, and a surprise that wasn't wholly unwelcome. If only Casey had known, she would have just kept to her schedule and avoided an altogether pathetic future; but, of course, family was too important to her, and so she was unwittingly damned.

_Casey had never expected her father to follow through on his promises, so she tried her best not to generate too much hope as they worked to restore their relationship. Sure he had visited her and Lizzie, but he was a busy man and it would be unfair to expect a total turnaround, no matter how unfair the situation was for her. So she had been pleasantly surprised when her father called Friday afternoon to say his weekend was clear and she was booked on a flight to New York the following Tuesday. Okay, she would have to shift some plans and bump up that school thing (she had promised to organize the Extra Curricular files before school started back up), but she could do that. After all, she had a chance to visit her dad. _

_Casey felt the traces of giddiness rise as she listened to her father list the details. She smiled as she copied it diligently into her planner, already contemplating how they would spend the four day trip. Perking up her ears and sitting upright, Casey felt her brain suspend the euphoria before she could fully realize why. Her heart seemed to pause in her chest as the words caught up to her and she heard herself asking, "What?", annoyance and vague disbelief more prominent than she would have liked in the disappointment of her tone. "Derek?"_

"_Yeah," her father responded, either not sensing what was wrong or deciding he'd rather not deal with it. "I figured he could join us. I mean, you may be going off to school in a few months, but your mom won't let you fly to New York by yourself; and I promised Derek I'd take him to a game sometime. Is that alright?" he asked in slightly more concerned tones. "I mean, I've only booked your ticket so far, so . . . ." The sentence lingered heavily for a moment, and Casey felt the need to dispel the silence._

"_Oh. Um, yeah. It's fine," she told him, plastering a smile onto her face in the hopes that it would come through in her tone. He was getting better, but Casey and her Dad were still on uncertain terms. She didn't want to freak him out, especially after the awkwardness that had lingered since he came to that first disastrous dinner two years before._

"_Alright." He seemed to be distracted for a moment as muffled sounds came through the phone. "Hey, Case? I've got to go. But I'll see you soon, all right?"_

"_Okay. I love you, Dad."_

"_Yeah, honey. Love you, too. Bye." The line clicked and Casey dejectedly set it back on its hook. For some reason, she could no longer work up any excitement about the trip._

_Derek was going. _Derek_. He just couldn't ruin her life the old fashioned way—no, he had to steal the one opportunity she had with her dad, too. Just like last time. She ignored the part of her brain that said she was being irrational. Sure, he hadn't been so bad lately, but now she was certain he was just trying to catch her off guard. Selfish prick. And why did her dad keep his promises to Derek? He had never kept them to her. Suddenly center ice tickets were more important than your daughter? And what about Lizzie? Why did someone who'd met her dad once take precedence over her own sister?_

_Huffing, she glowered at the wall that separated her room from Derek's. He wouldn't get away with this. She was going to give him a piece of her mind, and if he didn't end up feeling guilty despite his supposed immunity to the feeling, her name wasn't Casey McDonald._

Of course, she had eventually realized that it wasn't really Derek's fault, mostly because of the truly befuddled look on his face when she had ripped off his headphones and started to upbraid him for something he didn't even know about. But that didn't stop her from sulking around the house for the rest of the weekend, sending Derek dirty looks every so often when she thought he wouldn't notice. She may have bitten his head off a few times, too. What happened in the four days between her father's phone call and the flight to New York was probably mostly her fault. After years of picking the situation apart, she finally realized that her behavior had both annoyed Derek and intrigued him to the point that he felt the need to do something about it.

_He probably set the whole thing up just to set me off guard_, she thought, not for the first time. _It would be just like Derek to pull a stunt like that because he somehow knew it would get to me_.

But as much as she had already allowed herself to wallow in the past, now was certainly not the time to think about that Monday night. It wouldn't do anything but give her the opportunity to berate herself more, and she really didn't need that right then.

_I suppose I've hidden enough for one night_, Casey thought resignedly. And she sighed once more before walking out into the fray.

"Really, Marti," Nora was pleading, shifting Casey's attention away from the quietly laughing Lizzie and Edwin to her obstinate youngest stepsister. "I don't know what you're planning, but you and Jenny were not _just talking_. After all these years, I know when you're plotting, and whatever it is just _don't_."

"Really, Mrs. Venturi. Er, McDonald. Uh . . . whatever. This evening has been pretty stressful and I think you're taking this too seriously," Casey could tell both from Jenny's flippant tone and the innocent look on Marti's face that her Mom was _not_ taking it too seriously, but refrained from commenting, however much she wanted to. She really didn't know what was going on, and it would be rude to involve herself, especially when she had only met Kendra's cousin once before.

"We were just thinking of ways to help," Marti promised, giving Nora that 'I just wanted to help out my favorite idiot brother' look. "They may have been a little underhanded, but it's the thought that counts."

Casey narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Marti, but noting her mother's worsening state of frazzled nerves, Casey reluctantly intervened on the two girls' behalves.

"Mom, whatever Marti was doing, she obviously isn't anymore." Grasping her mother by the elbow, she led her over to one of the overstuffed armchairs and guided her into it. "Why don't you just relax for a bit, okay?"

"But Casey," her mother started to object.

"I can handle whatever comes up, Mom," Casey assured with an affectionate smile. "But really, take a break, okay?" Her mother nodded halfheartedly and Casey watched her for a moment more before deciding she would do as promised.

She shot Marti a look on her way to straighten up the table, to which the younger girl shrugged and smiled impishly. Casey shook her head and rolled her eyes. _Too much like her brother_. Which froze the smile starting to form as she stopped the rueful shaking of her head and went determinedly pushing the chairs firmly into place and realigning the centerpiece on the table.

As she had predicted, the door swung open a few minutes later with an almost sheepish motion, though the people who stepped through looked anything but. Kendra was looking consoled and embarrassed, but her arms were still stiff across her chest with a hint of hurt and anger; Derek, for his part, stood casually with his fingertips barely brushing the small of Kendra's back in a furtive comforting gesture. Casey was sure she was the only one who caught the remnants of guilt and the slight flash of tension around his eyes; she took the opportunity to bite the comment off her tongue and turn back to the task at hand, doubling her efforts to effuse normality as, for once, the rest of her family did the same.

**SlSlSlSlSl**

Reviews are lovely, if you don't mind. If you do mind, too bad for me, I suppose.


	10. Ghost of the Past

Yay

Yay! Fun chapter! At least, I had fun writing hit. Hope you like!

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, and can't come up with anything clever to say.**

Derek was irritated. He had gone to dinner with his family, and its formality frustrated him to no end; he had put up with Casey, and that damn attitude of hers was driving him crazy; he had taken it out on his fiancée, and the guilt gnawing at him was exasperating; and he had been unable to keep his thoughts from distracting him at work, and now his boss was being a pain.

Now Kendra was out doing some stress shopping (window, he hoped, as she was probably in the mood to borrow his credit card) and Derek was left alone with his thoughts. Try as he might, he just couldn't concentrate on the problem at hand, no matter how important. Whenever he tried, Kendra's face was invariably replaced with Casey's, and he just couldn't fight it anymore. Maybe he needed to indulge, just this once. So he had gone to the one place that, somehow, always reminded him of her.

He knew he was kidding himself if he thought indulging in the past would be in any way beneficial; he had tried it, countless times, before he regained his grip on sense and shoved those memories back where they belonged. Still, he couldn't seem to help himself. So he shut his brain off, a habit formed moments after his first experience with the building, and let the phantoms appear as they would, drifting down the halls of Sir John Sparrow Thompson High.

There was football hall, where he and Sam had played pranks on the football players almost every week of Senior year; there was Kendra's locker, where he had first asked her out and spent so much time ever after; there was the shocking reminder of where he had seen Ralph and Emily macking while they were supposed to be in Algebra. But Casey popped up just as much, as he knew she would: her first Klutzilla moment on the stairs; the office, where she saved him from Mr. L's clutches; the alcove where he found her sobbing one morning, skipping class for probably the first time ever, and he had awkwardly patted her back for a few moments before finding Noel and kicking his ass; and, of course, the building itself, which was witness to too many fights to count.

They had snuck in once. Well, he had. It was the first time he had broken in after graduation, and somewhere in his mind he knew that night was why he came back. She was supposed to be there, organizing the files for some committee. He didn't know why she bothered—after all, what was the point when they were never coming back? She should be living it up, or at the very least packing for University. It was just the way she was, making everything perfect before she left. In a few weeks she would be truly severed from Sir John Sparrow Thompson High, as far learning went, and she had to make sure the next class started off on the right foot. He didn't know why he had decided to crash her organization session. He was looking for a good time and nothing was ever quite as entertaining as Casey, especially when he could rile her up, which was often. But for whatever reason, he had been nearby and before he knew it he was pulling into the parking lot a few spaces away from the only other vehicle on the premises.

_It was surprisingly easy to get into the building: duck around the back, a twist of the lock pick, and the door swung right open. The halls were empty, and he had no trouble finding the Extra Curricular Office in the dark hallway. The door was cracked, but Casey was too absorbed in her task to hear his footsteps. Smirking, he nudged the door with enough force for it to bounce against the wall as he leaned against the doorframe. Casey jumped, whirling and clutching the desk behind her before she recognized him and let the tension melt from her shoulders._

"_Derek," she hissed, glancing around as if someone would see. "What are you doing here?" He shrugged and she pursed her lips. "How did you get in?" she asked after a moment in warning tones, though she knew the answer as well as he. _

_He could tell from her glare that she was still pissed about the New York thing. But seriously, it wasn't like it was his fault. She just needed to get over herself._

"_It wasn't that hard," he told her, pushing off with his shoulder and walking over to lean against the paper strewn table._

"_Derek, breaking and entering is a criminal offense," she reprimanded, sounding none too pleased. "You could get in trouble."_

"_I'm with you," he reminded offhandedly, well aware that Casey had gone to the principal and gotten official permission as well as the janitor's key._

"_You _should_ get in trouble," she retorted, turning back to her work. She didn't say anything further on the matter and Derek grinned, knowing he'd won._

"_So tell me," he began in mock helpful tones, swinging easily into the chair and propping one leg on the arm. "What kind of social derision leads a desperate teenage girl to give up a perfectly good summer night to organize files?"_

_She glanced up, annoyed at the insult. "So tell me," she imitated, tilting her head to one side. "What drives someone who claims to have a thriving social life to pestering their stepsister at night in the empty building they swore they'd never step foot in again?"_

_He shrugged. "It's not so bad without the teachers and work hanging over your head," he replied, completely evading her question. He wasn't quite sure why he was there himself._

"_Work?" She rolled her eyes. "What world do you live in? I wouldn't be surprised if the only homework you ever did was that English Project we did together. Or did you have Sandra 'help you?'" She asked with obvious air quotes as she seated herself diagonal from Derek and began sifting through the papers on the table._

"_I said it was hanging over my head; I never said I did any of it. Besides," he went on, "being popular can be hard sometimes. You have to make appearances, flirt with annoying girls, keep everyone entertained . . . ."_

"_Yeah, sounds like a real challenge," she snarked, purposely not looking up from her work._

"_Well you never seemed to manage, did you?" he reminded smugly, allowing a smile to twitch at the corners of his mouth when her head came up to glare at him, lips pursed._

"_I would have done just fine if it weren't for you," she accused, irritated._

_He refrained from making another crack at her social skills. She probably could have managed, eventually—she almost had, at one point—but then his main amusement in life would have disappeared. "Where's the fun in that?" he wondered lazily, smirking at her consternation. It was so much fun to get under her skin, and required surprisingly little effort._

"_Derek Venturi, you're just . . ." she trailed off angrily. Or maybe not so surprisingly. Casey never had any sense where he was concerned, a fact which he frequently chose to exploit. "Infuriating," she decided with a huff, crossing her arms to broadcast her annoyance._

Derek sighed, glancing down the hall as the memory continued to play through his mind. It hadn't taken much time or effort before he had gotten Casey truly riled. She had been frustrated with him before he had even dropped by, and despite her pronouncement that the situation wasn't his fault, he knew some part of her held him responsible. Quite soon he had her nearing livid.

"_I don't have to put up with you," she stated in an angry huff, pushing back her chair and standing, arms crossed over her chest. "You're not supposed to be here, and I'm sure Mr. Lassiter won't be pleased to find someone broke into his school. Especially you." With that, she turned on her heel and strode confidently out the door._

"_What are you going to do, tattle?" Derek mocked as he followed her into the hallway, past his old locker and around the corner. "Break into his office to call him up? I'm sure he'd love that. Casey, breaking the rules to report a violation."_

"_He never said I couldn't use his office," she retorted superiorly, never slowing her trek._

"_He never said you could," Derek replied easily, though he had no way of knowing whether the fact were true. At the slight tightening of her shoulders, he smirked._

"_What do you want, Derek?" she asked, whirling to face him. "I'm busy. I have quite a lot of work to do, being _responsible_ and helping out. Why can't you just leave me alone?"_

"_Come on, Casey. Organizing the activities files? Teenage girls don't do that. Especially not after they've graduated. It's not like you can pad your resume anymore, anyway. So why don't you just give it up and go home?"_

"_Because, _Derek_, I like doing things to help other people. And those files are a mess," she added, trying not to let the mild embarrassment slip into her tone. His mouth twitched a smile. Figures she was doing it for entertainment value._

"_Casey, Casey, Casey. If you just wanted some meaning in your life you should have told me. Dad's been telling me to clean my room for years; that would keep you busy well into the new school year."_

"_Like I would touch that pig sty," she huffed._

"_Ah, so the whole 'helping people out' thing is limited to those you find worthy."_

"_And you don't make the cut," she bit back, annoyed at his amusement._

"_I'm so hurt."_

_Casey sighed in aggravation and turned back the way she came, muttering under her breath as she passed Derek._

"_Now where are you going?" Derek wondered, intercepting her movements._

"_To finish organizing," she told him pointedly. "Away from annoying stepbrothers who have nothing better to do than pester people." She made to start walking again, blinking in surprise when Derek blocked her path with a firm hand on the locker next to her. "But we were having such a nice conversation," he said, voice dripping with mock hurt. He didn't know why he wouldn't let it go tonight; he just couldn't stop himself from trying to irritate her. Rolling her eyes, she turned to walk around him. The other arm came up before she could dart past him, effectively trapping her. He lowered his head slightly to smirk at her, a gesture she returned with a glare before ignoring him to assess the situation._

_He watched her, laughing, as she tried first to shove his arm from its position, finding it firmly anchored, then duck under his arm only to have him hover closer to prevent the movement. He gave her space when she stopped the attempt, but she knew any semblance of a motion to escape would result in him restraining her again. He smirked as she visibly weighed her options and finally, unwillingly, accepted her inferiority in brute strength. She forcibly relaxed the tension in her shoulders and merely stood there, leaning against the lockers with obvious irritation in her countenance and watching him for hints of boredom. He rolled his eyes at the action: Casey just had to take the fun out of everything. He may as well not bother. Derek bent his arms at the elbow to push off the lockers, glancing at Casey to see if his movement caused any more irritation as he hoped. And inexplicably, he found himself not pushing back but hovering there watching Casey, who had caught her breath, seemingly as surprised as he. He couldn't say why the feeling had suddenly risen—they were still almost half a foot apart—but it had been merely seconds and already his thought process was doing far worse than it had with any other girl. Finally, reluctantly, he drew back, despite the protests in his mind. Somewhere in his head he knew that it was best._

Derek Venturi doesn't back away!_ broke through his thoughts and he halted his retreat. Casey had yet to say a word; she was staring at him almost uncomprehendingly as he fought a momentary battle with himself. His brain instinctively told him to screw the consequences,_ _and Derek couldn't find it in himself to disagree as he grudgingly accepted what he'd been avoiding all summer._

_Casey's face was beginning to gain a bit more comprehension, but surprisingly her expression softened into a nervous acceptance rather than the disdainful look he half anticipated. He moved in again slowly, not because he was hesitating, he assured himself, but to keep from breaking the atmosphere that had settled over them. He was beginning to feel her breath on his face when it suddenly shifted in a quick intake, halting his movement. She took the opportunity to jerk her head quickly, forcing Derek to draw back, and watch him as if he would pounce._

"_I can't," she began, almost stuttering. She was flustered, he could tell, and trying her best to think reasonably. "I mean, I don't . . . I just . . . don't." _

_His brow furrowed. _

"_You don't?" he asked expectantly, knowing what she meant but refusing her the easy way out. _

"_I don't, Derek. This isn't . . . this is wrong. I don't feel that way." She pulled back until her head was completely pressed against the locker, invigorated by the statement, and took the opportunity to slide under his arm. "I mean," she continued in a slightly stronger voice, facing him as he turned but staying three firm tiles away. "Do you . . . do you think we should . . .? We can't," she repeated finally, processing enough to answer her own question, rattled as she was. "It's not . . . like that," she finished, encompassing their entire relationship in her tone._

_It was a lie. He knew it was. Derek was, after all, Master of the Sacred Art of Deceit, and Casey was no prodigy. Yet he had let it go, pretended he believed her. _Why had he done that? Was it for his sake or hers?_ Of course, Derek never did anything without gaining something. But much as he wanted to believe it had been wholly selfish, that it would cause too much drama, that he didn't really feel that much anyway, he knew somewhere that her expression had stopped him. She never could hide her feelings, and her face had been screaming to just forget the whole thing. So he had. Casey needed her order. And when he lied to her, his voice held all the conviction her falsehood had lacked. Then he turned on his heel and walked casually down the hall, leaving her confused in his wake._

Derek couldn't help the squeezing in his chest or the tension filled quirk of his mouth as the memory faded before his eyes. _If only it had ended there, things would be so much easier now._

His thoughts were jolted as he heard the distinct ringing sound emitting from his pocket; digging around for his phone, he finally yanked the device free and flipped it open. _One new message: Smarti_.

_Crap_, he thought, knowing what it said even as he clicked 'read.' _Derek, I know you didn't forget me, but you're about twenty minutes late and I've moved on to bigger and better things. _ He could hear her sarcasm through starkly printed letters. _You better be here soon, or I'll be forced to take drastic measures. And you know how bad that can get._

Flipping the phone shut, he simultaneously shoved it back in his pocket and dug around for the car keys, willingly letting his earlier thoughts dissipate as he hurried back out the janitor's entrance and jimmied the lock shut.

He pulled up to the house not ten minutes later, despite it normally being an almost twenty minute drive. As he let himself in, he heard two distinctly female voices from the back of the house. By no means wanting to investigate, as he was fully aware of whom the other voice belonged to—was she _always_ there?—he plopped down in a nearby chair and let his eyes drift to the window. After being a half-hour late, he knew Marti would make him wait for her, no matter how hungry she was. His eyes moved toward the driveway, and he was startled to find his fiancée slamming the door to her car, parked just beyond his, and making her way to the house. He pulled himself out of the chair and made it to the door seconds after she had rung the bell; swinging it open, he noted an eager look and a large smile before she gave him a quick hug and entered the room.

He opened his mouth to ask her what was up, but before he could her eyes brightened and she exclaimed, "Oh, Casey; I'm glad you're here."

He whirled—casually, he hoped—at the unexpected comment and saw Casey hovering under the frame of the room. She had obviously come to answer the door, and upon seeing Kendra and Derek attempted to step back into the shadows just a moment too late.

Caught, she stepped into the room with a pleasant smile and said, "Hello, Kendra." Glancing at him, she added in a slightly weaker tone, "Derek."

Kendra, as always, missed the rather lackluster tone to the greeting and, turning to face her fiancée as well, animatedly launched into her explanation.

"I knew you were picking up Marti, Derek, and I just had to tell you in person; I'm so glad I caught you before you left." Pausing for dramatic effect, she continued excitedly, "a designer wants to interview me!"

Derek broke into a grin and gave an enthusiastic, "awesome" as he reached forward to hug her; Kendra wrapped her arms around his neck and let her feet leave the ground as Derek lifted her to him. A few seconds later, she dropped back down with an excited bounce.

"That's great, Kendra," Casey added, though still looking slightly confused as to why she was there.

"So," Kendra continued without prelude, "I'll be going to New York next week and—"

"Wait, New York?" Derek interrupted as a jolt went through him. That was a rather large decision for her to be making without consulting him first, wasn't it? But Kendra waved him off.

"Oh, his company is in New York, but they have a branch in Toronto."

_Moving to Toronto is still kind of a big deal,_ he thought, but Kendra had already moved on.

"So, I thought, it's kind of pointless to go to New York just for two days, right? And where has better shopping than New York City? So I talked to Jenny, and we're going to make a week out of it!"

"A week out of what?" Derek asked, vaguely confused.

"Looking for my wedding dress, of course," Kendra answered, her eyes rolling affectionately at Derek's cluelessness.

Derek rolled his eyes as well. "Of course," he said with a rueful smile.

"And since we're on such a tight timeframe, we can't really stop with the other preparations . . ." Derek withheld a groan, already knowing where this was headed, ". . . and since Derek is neither interested nor capable of doing this on his own . . ." Derek almost made an offended remark to that, no matter that it was true, but his brain was sending little warning spikes down his spine and he focused on figuring out what was wrong with the statement his fiancée had just made . . . "Jenny and I came up with the perfect solution!" _Oh, he knew he wasn't going to like this . . ._ "Casey can help you!"

There was a pregnant pause in which Kendra looked expectant and Casey and Derek looked at loath to grant her request; then it all came at once.

"Oh, Kendra, I don't really think—"

"Nonsense, Casey, there isn't anyone else I would trust."

"But _Kendra_—"

"Oh Derek, stop being such a baby about this planning business. It's only for a week."

"Yes, but I have things to do, and—"

"Please, Casey? I know it's a lot to ask with your schedule, but you're the only one I know who would do things right."

There was a long pause, in which Casey's face twisted and Derek tried to come up with a way to refuse without being rude enough to get Kendra pissed.

"Okay," Casey finally agreed, sounding like she wanted anything but.

"Great!" Kendra enthused, sounding, if possible, more excited than she had a few moments before. "Well, I know you and Marti need to be going," Kendra said with a glance at the top of the stairs, popping up on her toes to give Derek a peck on the lips. Apparently Casey's assent was the only one that mattered. "But I'll see you tonight, alright, Derry?" Without waiting for a reply, the excited blonde spontaneously darted over to wrap Casey in a hug. "Thank you _so_ much, Casey." Stepping back and moving toward the door, Kendra added, "I'll send you a list of things to do, Casey, if you don't mind. I know you like to be organized." And with one final, "_thank you!_" Kendra was out the door. Derek and Casey stood in rather stunned silence for a few seconds before awkward tension began to drift into the room. Before it had a chance to become pronounced, however, stifled laughter burst from the top of the stairs. Derek glanced up, still slightly boggled, to see his baby sister descending the stairs, an unusually gleeful smile painted on her face.

_Well this is just great_, Derek thought as he pulled out of the driveway, an irritatingly mischievous looking Marti n the passenger seat.

**GhGhGhGhGh**

Okay, I hope everyone enjoyed! Tell me what you think.


	11. At the Beginning

Kendra gets Casey to help with the wedding when Jenny goes home for a few weeks

I have another chapter for you! And I don't even think it's been a month yet. See, I'm improving. Or I just have spring fever, which makes me inspired for all the non-school related things. I hope there aren't too many errors; I checked most of it a few times, but all my friends came into my room a while ago, so I was a little distracted in re-reading the end. Give me grace ducks And I hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer: I am struggling between a Media Communications and a Creative Writing Major. This means, that while I would definitely love all that owning these characters would involve, I don't. So far as I know.**

After spending several hours mentally preparing herself, Casey was mildly horrified to feel all that preparation flee the second Derek opened the door. Still, those years of practice were not for nothing, and Casey brusquely pushed past her stepbrother into his apartment, the few seconds reprieve allowing her to regain her composure before he could note the change and use it against her.

_I can do this,_ she reminded herself, breathing in slowly and deeply before releasing her breath with forced calm, turning to face Derek, who appeared just as determined as she to keep this all business. _I need to do this, _she thought firmly, setting her brow. She had decided the night before, as she faltered between drowning herself in her work and stubbornly _not_ calling Kendra in a panic to back out, that this was, in fact, the best thing for her. She could test her resolve, learn to work with the man she'd do anything to avoid, and, in the end, if this didn't help her move past that ridiculous crush that had resiliently clung to her since adolescence, then at least she could wrap her mind around the idea that he was well and truly not hers, and that the past needed to be pushed aside once and for all.

"Well," Casey said into the silence, breaking her own train of thought. "We'd better get started if we want to finish everything on Kendra's list." In all actuality Kendra had not left much as far as big things went, but Casey assumed it would take longer to get everything to the bride's specifications. And on a more personal level, the sooner they finished, the sooner she could be comfortably away from Derek again. With that thought Casey pulled out her notebook, the inside covering sporting a typed list of Kendra's expectations, and flipped it open, never once glancing at Derek's face.

"Kendra already found the bridesmaid dresses, but we need to—"

"Wait, she has?" Derek interrupted, looking confused.

Casey glanced up at him and suppressed a sigh, choosing not to sarcastically roll her eyes at his response. Apparently Kendra had taken her fiancée's avoidance of all things wedding planning into consideration and stopped boring him with every detail. Which really just made Casey's life so much more difficult.

"Yes," she told him, managing to keep most of the frustration out of her tone. _Don't start a fight,_ she repeated to keep herself calm. _Fights always end in things that ruin your life. Don't start a fight_. The mantra calmed her somewhat, and she managed a polite smile.

"We do need to find Marti, though, because she skipped out on her fitting." _Thanks to the influence of a certain_ someone_, _she didn't say. "So we can pick her up from school this afternoon. That leaves us," she checked her watch before glancing back up, "two hours to look at invitations."

"Invitations?" Derek questioned skeptically. "Will we really need two hours for that?"

"You'd be surprised," Casey said, hoping she sounded more offhanded than she felt as she scanned her list once more. "You have to look at card stock, and fonts, and color schemes, and decals, and then decide whether you want layers, or bows or—"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Derek interrupted, sounding slightly irritated. Casey let her eyes drift towards him. "Kendra will make the final judgment," she added for his benefit. "We're just looking through catalogues and finding roughly what she has in mind."

Derek nodded, deciding it would be better to just go along with it. The more he complained, the more he would aggravate the situation, which is something neither of them wanted.

"What about the rest of the week?" he asked in an effort to remain on task.

Casey flipped past a few pages, the glanced back at the list on the inside cover. "Well, there are the invitations and Marti's fitting, of course; and your tux fitting," she added, eyes flickering to him briefly. Derek twisted his lips slightly, but managed to repress a frown. "Touring the building for the reception, talking to the caterers, finalizing the guest list," she cut of with a sigh of annoyance. "Basically, Kendra has been looking at dresses and flowers. That leaves a lot of details and paperwork."

Derek groaned; he should've guessed that the flighty part of Kendra's personality would come out in this. She never was one for the little things as long as she had her fun. Not that he was much different, but still.

"Can't we do, like, cake tasting or something?"

Casey glanced back at her list. "She's leaving it up to you to choose the band," she offered, well-aware that music was something Derek enjoyed. He offered her a light grin. Maybe this working together thing would be bearable, after all. As long as she kept her head and managed to balance cordiality and staying somewhat aloof, she couldn't foresee anything major that could go wrong.

_As they stood in line behind the ticket desk, Casey obstinately ignoring Derek because of their near tardiness, she couldn't help but let her thoughts drift to the thing that had been plaguing her for the last however many hours._

_Of course, she and Derek had certainly never been _involved_, but over the past several months it had gotten to the point where she could almost imagine they were. Not that she _would_, but . . . . Things had changed. __He mocked her and played tricks while she yelled and lectured and rolled her eyes; but they were always together, picking on each other, battling wits—even, on rare occasions, hanging out. Those last instances had seemed to come more often that summer, actually. He even helped her out a few times, though they both knew if she mentioned it he would vehemently deny any such claims._

_And somehow, she had started to see him differently. At first she hadn't realized it, and simply thanked her lucky stars that Derek was becoming more bearable. She'd managed a catastrophic freak out when she started having . . . more than friendly thoughts about him, but she quickly explained that away. And at the end of Senior year, when she had finally, reluctantly, accepted it, she convinced herself that it was simply a stupid, passing thing that she would soon get over. But even as she made an effort to stay normal—thinking at the very least it would be good to be friends, which seemed to be the direction they were heading—she couldn't seem to stop the jolt of her heart or the extra flare of annoyance that she knew, deep down, meant trouble. As her feelings grew, even Casey realized that Derek would pick up on them, but she continued to ignore them._

Which was probably the cause of that _thing_ the other day, _she thought sourly. He had to know what effect he had on her, knew exactly how to rile her up, and used it to his advantage to make her uncomfortable. _Well I certainly showed him_, she continued with a forced measure of pride. _He took it too far, and he has to know he can't just . . . mess with me like that.

"_Hey, Space Case," Derek nudged her shoulder, breaking her from the inner diatribe that continued to direct criticism at his character. "The line's moving."_

_Casey took a few steps forward without acknowledging who it was that had spoken, then went back to her pointed disregard of him._

Of course he'd act like nothing had happened_, Casey continued to rant bitterly. _Using his stupid knowledge of girls and my stupid emotions to rile me up, then proving he doesn't care in the least._She snorted once, couldn't help herself, and glanced up to note that a few of the other passengers boarding had turned to look at her. She glanced down, undecided as to whether the flush staining her cheeks was more from embarrassment or anger._

Maybe I should just let it go_, her rational side argued, even as the side of her that felt wholly betrayed gasped, _let it go? _in a disbelieving tone._ I mean, I did try to back out first_, she told herself meekly._ Because he didn't really mean it! _she growled back. _And it's not _right_, not matter how much I want it, _she sighed miserably. _Well,I'm going to be stuck with him for a few days,_ she argued back, switching tactics_, so I might as well make it bearable. For myself, _she quickly added as her pride balked. _So I can enjoy seeing Dad_. _

_The resentment still festered rebelliously, but Casey sighed, allowing most of it evaporate as she finally stepped up to the front of the line and handed the uniformed woman her ticket. Deep down, she knew she felt more hurt than angry, and, most of all, frustrated with herself for allowing this to happen._

_She stalked into the thru-way without waiting for Derek, and he didn't hurry to catch up with her. She would get quite enough of him for the next few hours._

Of course this would happen_, Casey thought, more resigned than irritated, as she sat in seat 23B and glanced down the aisle next to her, waiting for some sign that the luggage issue was solved and they would be getting underway._

_Beside her, Derek sighed, and she couldn't resist glancing at him in her peripheral vision. Even she was getting annoyed with how long they had been sitting on the tarmac, and Derek was certainly not one to best her in the patience department. She watched him drum his fingers on the armrest for a moment before apparently growing bored with that, too, and digging around in his pocket. She glanced back to watch the flight attendant walking back and forth up the aisle, assuring antsy passengers, until her attention was diverted by a faint, mechanical voice near her left ear._

"—two unheard messages. First message from—"

_Casey did her best not to listen, but her annoyance with Derek seemed to squelch her conscience and the sound of her mother's voice caught her attention._

"Just making sure you guys are safe. I know you're probably on the plane, so make sure to call me when you get into New York. I love you guys. Bye."_ Derek rolled his eyes and deleted the message as Casey wondered if there were a similar one on her own cell, which she had turned off in the terminal like she was supposed to._

"Next unheard message,"_ the computerized voice announced; the tone shifted again, and Casey felt her breath catch in surprise. Then she turned her head and carefully schooled her features to appear disinterested, listening all the harder to the faint voice._ "Derek! You didn't tell me you were coming to New York!"

Then how did you find out?_ Casey found herself asking bitterly._

"That's too bad," _Kendra continued, sounding way too perky for the sentence_, "because my cousin is in town and I don't know how much free time I'll have. But if you get a moment, give me a call. Maybe you and Casey can eat lunch with us or something." _Casey felt slightly bad for her earlier thought. She did like Kendra, and it wasn't really her fault that her ex-boyfriend was ruining Casey's life._ "Let me know. Bye!" _The line went dead, and the automated voice returned. Derek was back to messing around with the buttons, but Casey tuned out. _

_In all honesty, she was surprised. She knew Derek and Kendra exchanged an email now and then, but she had thought they had pretty much lost contact. Derek wasn't one to string something out, she knew; especially something he knew wouldn't work. But if Kendra was calling him about lunch, maybe they kept in better touch than she had thought._

_She looked at Derek and pondered asking him about it, before dismissing the thought. She didn't want to talk to him any more than necessary. _And you _were_ eavesdropping_, she reminded herself, with only a twinge of guilt._

"_Ladies and gentlemen," a female voice drifted from the speakers, and Casey could just see the stewardess speaking into the box at the front of the cabin. "We will be on our way shortly. Please turn off all electronic devices and . . . ." _

_Casey turned out, ignoring the jostling of her arm as Derek dug for his seatbelt. Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, Casey hoped against hope that she would be able to sleep through the flight._

Casey sat in the front seat of Derek's car, a faint smile on her lips. Looking through invitations had gone better than she expected; they found three options that looked remarkably similar to Kendra's specifications, and all three were now tucked away in Casey's folder. But more than that, Derek's company had been bearable. _More than bearable_, she admitted as she looked at him from the corner of her eye. Though the first twenty minutes had been a battle between awkward moments and irritation, they soon fell into a pattern that seemed to work for both of them. It wasn't as easy working with him as it used to be, of course—things were still far too tense for that—but by the end of the afternoon Derek had taken to making snide comments about the more _interesting_ invitations choices, and after fifteen minutes of fighting them, Casey allowed herself a few small smiles.

Now they were sitting in late afternoon traffic, on their way to pick up Marti and get on with their final task of the day.

Unsure of what else to do, Casey rested her elbow by the window and cradled her chin, looking out the window with careless interest. The car drifted to a stop as they hit a red light, and Casey's eyes roamed to the car next to them. It took her a moment to notice the small sticker in the corner of the window, but when she did she let out an astonished "oh."

Derek glanced out the window at her noise of surprise, and moments later he was sporting an emphatically raised brow, as Casey's mouth drifted open in shock. There, in bold black, were the words, "The Schlepp," outlined in mist blue. The top quarter of the decal sported a picture of Sheldon himself, dramatically popping the peace sign. Slowly, she and Derek turned to face each other, each slightly blank in the face.

She couldn't help the laughter that spilled out of her, then, and Derek was laughing along with her as they pulled away from the light. She opened her mouth, to say what she wasn't sure, but her mystery sentence was interrupted as the Wedding March broke out from the driver's seat and drifted through the car. Casey stopped laughing abruptly, breathing in deeply and schooling her features as Derek dug the phone from his pocket, muttering under his breath about people messing with his ring tones.

"Kendra," he greeted when he finally got the device to his ear, keeping one hand casually on the wheel as he continued to pull through traffic. Casey glanced out the window, suddenly feeling awkward and trying her best to remain aloof. _Not that you've been terribly aloof so far_, an internal voice muttered. She shushed it stubbornly with the sinking feeling that it might be right.

"Really? That's great!" Derek said, and Casey glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He meant it, she knew, but she could also see the underlying . . . _something_ in the way he grinned.

"Yeah, sure," the one-sided conversation continued. "Uh, huh. . . . Kendra, don't push it," that was unfortunately a little more amused than she would have hoped. _Don't_, she told herself firmly, forcing herself not to listen. "Yeah, we've been . . ." Derek started, and she finally tuned out. The snapping of the phone brought her back to attention, but she wasn't sure how much time had passed. Considering they were still a few minutes away, not long.

"So, uh, Kendra's interview went well," Derek interjected into the silence.

Casey looked up at him with a gracious smile. "That's great."

They sat without speaking for another minute or two, and Casey felt herself growing agitated. She never had any problem coming up with conversation around Derek. _That's not strictly true_, she reminded herself, but almost immediately dismissed the thought. _That doesn't count. The fact that I _didn't_ talk to him doesn't change the fact that I could have, if I'd wanted to. _You did want to. _Okay, I could have if I let myself_, she argued back, frustrated. _Anyway, those years of my life didn't count. And even when I was being overly polite, we could still make conversation. _Fed up with the internal monologue and irritated that Derek had apparently succeeded in driving her crazy, Casey struggled for something else to say.

"Uh, does this guy have anything to do with that magazine she interned with after Senior year?" It was a legitimate follow up question, albeit a bit late, but as soon as the words left her mouth she wished them back. She honestly could have kicked herself. Please don't let this conversation veer toward New York . . . .

But either Derek didn't follow the connection, or chose to ignore it. "No, I don't think so. I mean, he's probably contributed some of his designs, but I don't think they gave her the connection . . ." he drifted off. "I don't know," he finally sighed. "She didn't say much about it before she left." He smiled wryly. "I think she's saving all the details in case something comes of it, so she can really go crazy."

Casey smiled again, and it wasn't _really_ forced. Just not terribly exuberant. They fell into silence again, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as it was before. They were much closer now, and Casey found herself growing strangely antsy as they traveled the path they had so often in their first years together. _Together meaning riding in the same car. Or living in the same house_. She corrected her thoughts' implications with practice she wished she hadn't had. How pathetic was it that she felt a pang whenever thoughts like that popped into her head. It was like her brain _wanted_ her to slip up. _When it was all my stupid brain's fault in the first place_. She took a minute to dissect the sentence, then came to the frustrating conclusion, _goodness, I sound like a kid. I must be regressing_.

But then they were stopping at the final intersection, and turning onto the last main street.

"The high school," Casey breathed reverently when it came into view. She could almost imagine Derek fighting a laugh, but she didn't care. "I can't believe it's been so long since we left," she marveled as they inched closer, stuck behind an ever slowing line of cars and buses. Derek shrugged noncommittally, and Casey frowned. Derek of all people should have been reminiscing over being happily removed from this building for the last eight years. _Oh, right_, she remembered after a moment. _He helps Marti skip sometimes_. Obviously he wasn't as far removed from _Sir John Sparrow Thompson High_ as Casey, which she found slightly ironic. Still, she dismissed his silence with an understanding shrug and continued.

"I always thought I would miss it more. I mean, I spent enough time there, even when it wasn't required." She smiled slightly, an echo in her mind waiting for the inevitable friendly insult. It never came, and she frowned first in disappointment, then at herself.

_Stop it_, Casey told her mind firmly, but she found herself strangely unable to comply with her own command. She had forgotten what it was like. For the past six years she had been so consumed with avoiding her feelings for Derek that she had disregarded what had caused them in the first place. How had she forgotten how much fun it was to challenge each other, to battle with words?

_We were sort of friends once, weren't we?_ she found herself pondering wistfully. That thought was followed by another resounding, _stop it!_

"I mean," Casey continued quickly, hoping he didn't notice the barest hint of desperation that tinged her voice as she attempted to control her rebellious thoughts. She would not go down that path again. "When was the last time we were here, anyway? Just before University? That day when I—" she cut off abruptly when her peripheral showed Derek staring fixedly at the road in front of him as he slowed at the entrance; her breath caught in her throat. _I did not just reference that_, she rebuked herself, shocked. That was what happened when she didn't concentrate on her words around him. _That's what happened when you live in the past_, an internal voice chimed deprecatingly.

"I suppose it's just odd that Marti actually goes here now," Casey recovered, mulling her words with care before she spoke them.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Derek replied, making it clear even with his casual tone that the line of conversation was over. Casey grasped a new topic with relief, one that would hopefully keep her a bit more in check.

"Do you know how Kendra finally managed to find Marti a bridesmaid dress? It must have taken a Herculean effort."

"Jenny," Derek said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm not sure if you noticed, but she and Marti are best friends now," the last three words were dripping with tempting sarcasm, but Casey merely replied, "Oh?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Well, it's good there's someone who could do it," she added, hoping to return to the safe harbor of discussing wedding plans.

"If you say so," Derek agreed, and Casey raised a brow.

"What?" she couldn't help but asking. "I mean, I only met her that once," she moved on quickly from the reminder of that embarrassing night, "but she seemed nice enough."

"Oh, she is," Derek agreed. "Usually," he added with some underlying irritation that had Casey's stomach twisting in jealousy more than watching him with ever Kendra had. _He's only supposed to get irritated with _me_, _she thought irrationally, before twisting her mouth at the childish thought. It wasn't like Derek's irritation was that hard to come by, after all.

"She just seems a little . . . manipulative," he added after a moment. Casey looked at him in askance. "Like Marti," he admitted sheepishly, "only not as cute. More slanting and less maneuvering. I don't know."

"She and Marti were up to something the other night," Casey put in, and Derek glanced at her. "I don't know what it was," she admitted. "I figured if it was something major someone would figure it out eventually."

"We can only hope," Derek added wryly, the expression on his face one Casey easily read as fondness for his sister. "You know how Marti loves trouble."

"I wonder why," Casey asked mildly, not checking the reference for the first time in what felt like forever. There was no denying how much Marti took after her brother, and that fact sometimes made Casey more susceptible whenever she dropped by the house.

Derek grinned and shrugged. "No idea," he added innocently.

"Well, it certainly wasn't Ed—"

Her brow puckered and her sentence cut off as he drove past the small cluster of waiting parents, pulling around the back of the school and swinging into a 'Faculty Only' space.

"What are you doing?" she asked, voice a mild mixture of curiosity and disapproval. He was already halfway out of the car, arm resting casually over the doorframe as he ducked his head back in to shrug at her. She fumbled with the seatbelt, slightly irritated as she pushed her own door open.

"You honestly didn't expect Marti to be where she's supposed to be, did you?" he asked rhetorically as he walked around the right of the building, where she knew a smattering of picnic tables were set up for anyone who wanted lunch outside.

"Oh, right," she agreed a little unwillingly. How was it that Derek was more in tune with the family than she was? Well, aside from the fact that it was Marti they were dealing with.

Casey rounded the corner a few steps after Derek, just in time to see Marti straighten and greet her brother with a genuine smile. It melted Casey's heart just a little bit; while Marti was definitely a cheerful person, often her smiles were sarcastic or one of those maddening perceptive smiles Casey could never seem to figure out. It was nice to see authentic contentment.

Casey trailed over to where Marti was sitting on the table, feet propped on the bench next to two other girls. One was leaning back on her arm, neck slanting upward to finish saying something, but the other was watching Derek approach. It took Casey a minute to another girl sitting in the grass, dreamily twisting the pieces of green in her fingers.

"Hey Smarti," Derek greeted with a grin infinitely brighter than any he had flashed at Casey that day. "Wreak much havoc today?"

"Surprisingly little," she responded with an innocent shrug. "And no one came close to catching me. It was a little disappointing."

"Eh," Derek intoned with an understanding shrug. "When you're the best . . . ." He let the sentence linger, and Marti quirked another grin.

"Hey, Casey," she greeted brightly, turning to look behind her brother to where her stepsister hung back.

Casey blinked in surprise at being addressed, though she wasn't sure why. She just kind of felt like a bystander, like she didn't really belong here.

"Hello, Marti."

The girl on the ground, a redhead with a bright yellow bow pulling back her pin straight hair, gave a whimsical sort of sigh. "I knew your fiancée would be too pretty to compete with," she said, glancing at Derek with an adoring smile.

Casey spared the girl a withering glance before she could check herself. _Are you serious?_ she found herself wanting to ask, though she wasn't sure if for the crass assumption or the fact that the girl was hitting on someone at least ten years her elder.

"Oh, that's my stepsister, Casey," Marti corrected flippantly. "She's the one forcing me to the bridal boutique this afternoon, because Derek's fiancée skipped town for a few days."

The girl who had been talking to Marti shrugged while the one who had watched them approach looked contemplative. The girl who had made the assumption, however, merely smiled up at Derek.

"Well I'm sure she's gorgeous anyway." Casey wondered whether or not she could dissuade the girl from her blatant admiration, which was probably only embarrassing her, but Derek wasn't fazed. In fact, he gave a genuine laugh and nudged the girl's bare knee with his foot, careful not to disrupt the position of her loose plaid skirt. She was surprisingly preppy looking to be one of Marti's friends.

"You got that right, kiddo."

A hint of affection tinged his voice, and Casey wondered just how well Derek knew Marti's friends. _Am I a bad stepsister for never having met them before?_ she wondered briefly before answering her own question, _of course not. I'm just busy with work. And it's Derek with Marti; of course he's met them_. Satisfied, she decided to interject.

"Ready to go, Marti?" The teenager rolled her eyes in a manner that obviously said, 'Casey,' knowingly, but she hopped up off the table and grabbed her messenger bag from where she had dropped it against the brick wall.

"Let's get this over with," she added with a woeful sigh. "Later, guys," she dismissed with half a wave over her shoulder as she turned to trudge dramatically toward the teacher's parking lot.

"See you, Molly," Derek added with a gesture of his own as he followed his sister with a laugh. Casey glanced back as she strode after them, watching as the two girls on the bench bent their head together to gossip. Molly smiled serenely at Derek's back before catching Casey watching and giving her a quirked grin. The girl shrugged before her eyes flickered up to listen to her friends conversing, and Casey turned back to watch where she was going with mild embarrassment.

"This is ludicrous," Marti complained two hours later, as the seamstress re-pinned the dress for the umpteenth time.

"Maybe you should have picked a less complicated dress," Derek suggested unhelpfully, causing Casey to sigh and step between them.

"I'm sorry, Marti, but you're almost done. Really," she added, when they younger girl gave her an incredulous look. "It's just that twisted overlay that's causing problems; it's hard to re-sew. She has to make sure to align everything perfectly before you can leave." Casey glanced at the seamstress to make sure her assessment was correct, but the woman hadn't even heard, focused on circling Marti with a scrutinizing glare. Marti obviously didn't care for the reasons, though, so much as she just wanted to be done. Her eyes brightened hopefully when the seamstress suddenly straightened, eying Marti's torso speculatively. She gave a decisive nod before looking up at Marti's face with an understanding smile.

"All finished, dear," she announced, to which Marti sighed in relief, too thankful to really make it sarcastic, and jumped down off the small platform on which she was standing.

"Wait—" Casey yelped at the same time as the other woman ordered, "Carefully!"

Already on the ground, Marti took surprising care walking to the dressing room, obviously not interested in another round of playing pincushion. As the door slammed closed behind her, Derek heaved himself to his feet with a sigh. Casey shook her head; within minutes of entering the small cream room Derek had plopped himself into the armchair in the corner and hadn't moved since.

_Unhelpful lout_, Casey thought, but her tone was slightly amused. After all, there wasn't really much Derek could have done, anyway. Actually, Casey herself had mostly just flitted around the pair in the middle, watching their progress.

"Time to go," Marti announced cheerfully, hanging the garment on a nearby hook with meticulous care before literally skipping toward the door. Casey would have done a double take if the teenager had been anyone but her stepsister. "Come on, Smerek," she ordered gleefully as he moved to join her. "Let's get out of here."

Casey watched the pair make their way towards Derek's car before turning back to the shop owner.

"Thanks so much," she smiled, shaking the woman's hand.

"Of course, dear," the woman replied, giving her a maternal smile. "I'll call you when it's done."

"Oh, actually," Casey remembered, reaching down to pull one of her many planners from her purse. "If you could just call Kendra, that would be great." She handed her a business card on which she had written out Kendra's number. She knew that would come in handy this week.

"Oh, of course," the woman repeated, accepting the card. "I'll call her. Bye, now."

"Goodbye," Casey said politely as she followed her stepsiblings out to the car.

Surprisingly, Marti had slipped into the back seat, leaving the front open for Casey; Casey was slightly surprised at her consideration, but dismissed it with a smile when she couldn't come up with any reason to be suspicious. Still, the teen leaned forward to stick her head between the two adults, seatbelt too loose to be safe, and chattered the whole way home. She shot Casey the occasional glance, but kept most of her attention focused on her brother. _Maybe they haven't seen each other in a few days,_ Caseymused.

When they pulled in front of their parent's house, Marti bounced back and slid out the door, waving briefly before darting into the house. Casey noticed with a small smile that Derek waiting until the door was closed before pulling away from the curb, but she chose not to mention it. He never liked when people brought up that sort of thing, but she spent so little time with him, it struck her as especially sweet. She glanced back out the window to watch the sky darken as they drove in silence. She said a quick goodbye as they got out of his car, and he strolled up toward his building without another glance backward.

As she walked toward her car, Casey turned her head just enough to watch Derek close the door of his apartment building. Maybe they could be friends again, she found herself hoping. Not like before, but still . . . maybe something was better than the nothing she had been forcing upon them. After all, once Derek was safely married to Kendra she could afford to let her guard down a little; even Casey's obviously skewed sense of morality in the matter wouldn't let her hold out hope then, would it?

_It couldn't hurt to try, could it?_ she asked herself, letting her gaze linger for just a moment more on the solid wood panels before turning once more to drift slowly downward.

**GgGgGgGgGgGg**

Well, that was the longest chapter yet, I think. For this story, at least. I feel like I have to explain a few things, so if this is overkill fell free to ignore it. Casey has been extremely standoffish so far, and it may seem like she's falling back into things with Derek a little too quickly. I kind of intended it to show that while Casey has all of these rigid ideas, she often lets her emotions get the best of her. Hence, why she and Derek don't spend tons of time together in person. Also, in case the whole "mistaken by some random person as a couple thing" seems a little cliché, I would like to say that for anyone who has a brother your age or best guy friend (I have both), absolutely everyone assumes something. It's annoying, but it is realistic, at least in my experience. So, hope you guys liked the chapter! Let me know what you think, if you would be so kind.


	12. Glimmers of Feeling

This is, in fact, a monumentally long chapter. At least, I'm pretty sure it is. So please enjoy it, for me.

**Disclaimer: If I owned it, why would I be living with **_**delusions**_** of Dasey action?**

_He had been ignoring raucous comments all night, comments that he was suddenly glad Casey was too oblivious to catch. He found himself glaring at a group of college kids a few rows down, where a few guys were twisted around to stare blatantly at her legs, apparently having decided that pointing and leering was classy._

Classy? _he caught himself with a pang of horror, letting the glare melt off his face as the men, intimidated, slunk back around in their seats._ Since when do I know anything about _classy_? _It wasn't the thought, so much, as the word that grated on him. 'Classy' was such a Casey word. It bothered him._ How far gone did I get without even realizing it?

_He knew something had been brewing all summer, but he hadn't thought much of it. They were becoming friends, and Casey was hot, there was no denying. So the incident in the school hadn't come as much of a shock, to him at least._ Not that she isn't still blaming me for it, _Derek thought petulantly, glancing over at Casey, who had propped her elbow on her bare knee and was resting her face in her palm, apparently not caring how bored she looked. It wasn't _his _fault Casey had been in denial. He had done all he could to stamp out his feelings, and when that had failed he took it in stride. But still, how much had he let her get in his head? And how had he not noticed?_ Yeesh, next thing you know I'll be picking up laundry and studying of my own free will, _he thought with a hint of sourness. Then he couldn't help but smirking in amusement as a sarcastic,_ yeah right, _floated through his mind._

_Derek willingly allowed the slapping of a hockey stick flush those thoughts from his head, and soon he was whooshing to his feet with most of the crowd, cupping his hands around his mouth to hoot exultantly as the forward pumped a fist in the air to appease the fans. Amazing. Just awesome. This is why he loved hockey, really. Say whatever you wanted about hockey players, but it took more than just talent to play—it took_ brains, ingenuity. _Sinking back onto the bleacher, Derek shook his head and laughed with pleasure. Why anyone wouldn't enjoy this was beyond him._

_A swish of brown to his right caught his attention, and despite himself he felt a pang of guilt. Casey was definitely not enjoying this. He knew she wouldn't, and it hadn't really bothered him; after all, with how she was treating him it wasn't like he didn't deserve a good night. But still, he was taking away her time with her dad, even though it was _not_ his fault in the least._

_Derek's mind finally wrapped around his line of thinking, and his mouth twisted into a dour expression. Trust Casey to make him miserable then make_ him_ feel bad about it. That was just like her. Eyes flickering to the game he was no longer enjoying quite so thoroughly, Derek obstinately thought,_ no effing way is she going to ruin this. _And with a resigned sigh, he quirked a grin and turned to face his stepsister._

"_You know," he began, causing her to jolt out of her stupor and turn to him in surprise. "If you had only once come to one of my games, you wouldn't be in this situation."_

"_What?" Casey scoffed rhetorically, refusing to accept his magnanimous effort. "If I had subjected myself to watching you chasing around a stupid piece of plastic and bragging about how awesome you were at some point in the last three years, my dad_ wouldn't _have taken one of the few nights a year I get to see him to drag me to a hockey game? _With you_," she added in distain._

"_No," he corrected, trying to keep the frustration out of his tone. He succeeded surprisingly well. "If you had come to one of my games, or even asked about one of them, you would know what was going on and be able to actually_ enjoy _it."_

_Casey snorted lightly. "Please. As if I would ever enjoy this sort of thing," she punctuated her statement with a sweep of her arm, encompassing the rowdy crowd and violent game in one gesture._

"_You might," Derek insisted obstinately. "If you didn't set yourself up for failure."_

"_I do_ not _set myself up for failure," Casey retorted stubbornly. "I am simply able to recognize an idiotic game when I see one." Derek shrugged, forcing himself to ignore the slight to his beloved sport, and pretended to invest his attention in the match. Casey rested her head back on her palm, but after several moments it was obvious that she wouldn't be able to zone out again. She straightened with a sigh, dropping her arm and smoothing her skirt before cautiously letting her eyes flicker to the game. He had known dropping it would get her. Casey couldn't stand it when he dropped an argument. Not that he enjoyed letting them go either; but this time he knew he would win in the end, so he took one for the cause. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Derek watching the game and Casey pretending not to, before he caught her mouth twist in frustration. _

_Her head swiveled towards him, eyes flickering between him and the game, and she asked in a defeated monotone, "What does that guy do, again?"_

_Derek let himself grin, but checked a victory dance for the time being, choosing instead to explain the job of the forward in a casual, easy tone._

"_And why is that not a foul?" she asked when he was finished, allowing a modicum of curiosity to defile her blank tone as she gestured toward an area on the ice, away from the action._

_Derek let his eyes travel away from the interesting stuff long enough to catch what she was pointing at. He snorted in amusement._

"_Cause the ref didn't catch it._ Nice_," he murmured, the sailing puck catching his eye once more._

"_Um, why is that good?" Casey wondered, obviously unsure if she should express her interest. Derek checked his smugness once more—he really knew her too well—and set about answering her question, rolling his eyes at her ignorance of the game. Really you'd think that even without paying attention she would have picked up something living with him. As he explained, he caught a small smile tug at Casey's lips. _Maybe I should rub things in her face less often_, he thought, knowing even as he did so that it would never happen. Where was the fun in life if he didn't make Casey mad?_

_He finally let a smug smile cross his face as he watched Casey's eyes flicker between him and the game, apparently unsure which she would rather watch and completely unaware of how obvious she was being. Derek's ego got the best of him, and he opened his mouth, despite knowing that whatever would come out would likely aggravate the situation between them. But before he could speak Casey blinked and turned to the side, distracted, and Derek craned his neck to follow her line of vision. Dennis was making his way back to the stands, shoving his phone back in his pocket as he did so. He was almost to them when their attention was distracted by another goal, but Casey's eyes stayed trained on her dad, and at the betrayed look in her eyes Derek felt his own mood crashing down with hers._

_Derek moved in the general direction of the exit, not really caring as the crowd swirled around him. It was all the rush of the game, and he didn't really mind the sweaty men and obnoxious fangirls as he would have at any other eve. The heat from the milling of people contrasted heavily with the crisp air of the rink, and Derek accepted the well-known feeling without a thought. Dennis followed him, matching his pace if not his fervor and Casey trudged behind, apparently happy it was finally over. They found lull in the crowd and made a break for it, swinging through the glass door and into the muggy New York air. The arena let out onto a shady looking side street, but within half a block they were back onto a more congested venue._

"_Anybody hungry?" Dennis broke the silence as they dodged people on the fairly busy street. It was only midnight, but Derek knew the crowd probably wouldn't have been any smaller if it were three instead. Casey glanced up and shrugged, hurrying slightly to catch the two men in front of her, and Dennis paused and stepped into the alcove of a little deli. They had eaten dinner early, and the greasy pretzels and soda at the rink hadn't appealed to Casey much. Derek doubled back as Casey caught up with him, and together they followed Dennis into the little shop._

"_Sorry I don't have much at home, but I figured we wouldn't be around much and I didn't really have time to hit the store," he apologized as they walked through the aisle, grabbing things off the shelves. Derek contented himself with several bags of potato chips and a few processed deserts, already eyeing the sandwich menu behind the counter. He let his eyes flicker over to Casey and quirked his lips in amusement as he watched her dither between a granola bar and a bag of chips that promised to be "thirty percent healthier." With a roll of his eyes, he reached over her arm to grab them both before plopping them on the counter and, ignoring the annoyed turn of her lips, rattling off his order. Glancing behind him at the still lingering Casey, he snorted and gave the man hers as well. That got her attention and earned him a glare, but he didn't really care. She probably thought he was being chauvinistic or something, like he thought that she couldn't order for herself, but it wasn't his fault she was taking all day. Dennis glanced between the two before shaking his head, digging out his wallet and dropping a twenty on the high counter. They traveled as a group to the end of the line where they picked up their sandwiches, wrapped in paper, and headed for the door. Derek saw Casey peek into her wrapper from the corner of his eye, and couldn't help a satisfied grin at the look of perturbance that crossed her face at the realization that he had ordered what she wanted._

"Must_ we eat them as we walk?" Casey asked with a frown when she couldn't think of anything rude to say to Derek. Like it or not, he had gotten her order right._

_Derek muttered, "We're in_ New York_, Princess," under his breath, but luckily she didn't appear to have heard._

_Dennis' eyebrows furrowed. "Well, there might be an alcove or somewhere we could sit, if you want," he suggested, arm gesturing the table-less store apologetically._

"_Um, okay," Casey replied unsurely, not entirely pleased. Derek sighed in relief when she didn't suggest they wait to get back to her Dad's; he was_ hungry. _He grinned at the expression on Casey's face as they headed outside and started walking, glancing around for anything that could make do as a table. Finally Dennis spotted a building with a nice ledge, and they weaved through the crowd so that they could sit on it. Derek dropped his food carelessly into his lap and immediately broke into the sandwich and Dennis seemed content to stand, but Casey let her hands flutter uselessly between items for a few moments, trying to decide the most civilized way to go about it. Finally she gently dropped the chips and granola bar into her purse and delicately unwrapped the sandwich, folding her legs into a perfect right angle to use as a table. Derek watched her surreptitiously, and knew his mouth was watering because of more than the sandwich as he noted the way her skirt—why in the world had she thought that was appropriate for a hockey game?—inched up her thighs. Forcing himself to avert his eyes, Derek polished off his sandwich and ripped the bag of chips open with undue frustration before grabbing a handful and stuffing them in his mouth. Dennis was done with his sandwich, too, and was leaning casually against the wall, waiting for the teenagers to finish. Mouth full of potato, Derek allowed his eyes to flicker back toward his stepsister._ Well, mostly waiting for Casey, _he corrected_.

_A vibrating in his pocket distracted him for a moment, and Derek managed to swallow his mouthful of food in one try as he dug out his phone, scattering a few chips on the dirty pavement in the process. Ignoring the broken bits of food, he glanced at the caller ID before flipping the phone open in surprise. He kinda thought the voicemail was the last he would hear of her, but maybe she really did want to get together. It would be kind of nice to see her, but it was bound to be awkward, and he thought she would have focused on that fact, as he was inclined to do. Shaking the thought, he greeted her casually, hearing her voice for the first time in months._

"_Derek!" she sounded enthusiastic, at least. He smiled. "You never called me back!" It was a statement, not an admonishment, and Derek found himself shrugging lightly in response._

"_Been busy," he dismissed easily in his usual style._

"_Oh, that's okay," Kendra dismissed, as well. "It's been uber crazy at the mag, and I've been hanging out with Jen when I'm not working. But I really do want to see you guys," she assured him, before letting sincerity soften her tone long enough to say, "I've missed you."_

_The first hint of unease twisted Derek's stomach, but he wasn't sure if it was because he didn't agree with her or if he did._

"_Yeah," he muttered noncommittally, and Kendra seemed willing enough to let it go._

"_Well, we're going out to lunch tomorrow, to this little French café off Broadway. It's __tres__ chic," she assured him, and he fought back a laugh at the wholeheartedness of her tone. "So you and Casey should totally come."_

"_Sure, Kendra," he said, not quite an assent, but close. He was distracted for a moment by Casey's face tilting over to watch him, but quickly shoved that knowledge away to refocus on his ex. Or were they friends, now? Not that it really mattered. "We'll see if anything's going on."_

"_Awesome," Kendra enthused, and he knew she would expect him to show, whether or not they had other plans. But still, she added, "Call me if you can. I'll text you the address as soon as I MapQuest it." Here he did chuckle lightly. Trust Kendra to not even know where they were going. "We're meeting about noon, m'kay?" He agreed briefly, and he could practically hear Kendra itching to get off the phone; she never did have a high attention span. Which was probably one of the reasons they got along so well. But then her attention refocused on him, and he was slightly surprised to hear her add pleasantly, "Oh, and Derek? Have an awesome time in New York."_

"_Sure. See you," he said as she clicked off the phone and he did the same._

_Derek slid the phone shut and glanced up, feeling Casey's questioning eyes on him._

"_Kendra said to stop by for lunch tomorrow if we have time. No pressure," he added lightly as an aggravated look crossed Casey's face. It wasn't like Kendra was trying to steal Casey's Dad-time or anything. Still, he knew what Casey was going to say even as she opened her mouth, despite the fact that she had schooled her features._

"_That's perfect, actually."_

_They both glanced up in surprise to where Dennis was still leaning against the wall, and the older man pushed himself up to better talk to them._

"_Well, Casey, this interview came up tomorrow—" Dennis didn't notice the way Casey's face fell, but Derek certainly did, and the more Dennis talked the more irritated Derek got. "That call I got during the game?" Dennis continued, without really waiting for a response, "It was a friend of mine. He's had a major breakthrough in this case I'm working on, and finally convinced a witness to talk to me. We need to have a meeting right away, in case he gets cold feet and bolts. This testimony could make our whole case," he justified, but even as Casey nodded her face only dropped further as a weight of responsibility drifted across her shoulders. Derek tried to smother the protective urge creeping up in more righteous anger, denying the presence of something so un-Derek-like. "So if you guys want to meet up with your friend for lunch, that will give me time to get this done so we can have the rest of the trip together."_

Jeeze, we're only staying 'til the day after tomorrow, _Derek thought bitterly._ Can't it wait_ one day?_

_Dennis glanced up then, and finally noticed the vaguely hidden expressions on either teen's face. He seemed to be expecting it, and Derek didn't know if that made him better or worse._

"_Derek, I hope you can get around the city by yourself," Dennis added, and Derek sourly decided, _worse_._

_Casey latched onto the statement, obviously trying to hide her despair, and from her expression Derek gathered that her dad was about to receive a less severe version of the feminism speech she so often gave him. Dennis seemed to pick up on it, too, and_ grinned, _of all things, as he reached into the inner pocket of his blazer._

"_Cause he's going to have to meet us at the airport," he dropped casually, leaning over slightly to slide two thin strips of paper into Casey's hand. She glanced at them blankly, then her eyes darted up to her Dad and back again. Derek let his brow furrow, wishing he could see what they were._

"_Really?" Casey asked softly, glancing almost shyly up at her dad again. Derek refrained from interrupting, on the off chance that Dennis was redeeming himself, and watched Casey intently._

"_Just you and me, kiddo. If we push your flight back a few hours, we should just be able to make the matinee. Think Derek can entertain himself for one afternoon?"_

_And then Casey was breaking out into a brilliant grin, and jumping up from her perch with a squeal—not caring as her sandwich slid off her lap to exploded on the ground—to give her dad an enthusiastic hug._

_Derek watched them impassively, letting some of his anger drain away. He knew it was his protective side—_pessimistic side, _he quickly corrected—that was telling him Dennis was buying Casey off. He was going to spend an afternoon with her, wasn't he? Even if it would apparently be in a dark theater on Broadway._

_Casey continued her profuse thanks, squealing intermittently and drawing the uninterested attention of several passersby, before she darted over to Derek, surprising him._

"_Look," she demanded happily, shoving the tickets in Derek's face before he could gather himself. "Isn't it awesome?" Her glowing smile and apparent lack of interest in the fact that she was royally pissed at him were what caused Derek to glance down at the printed strips._

Wicked_ stared back at him in stark black letters._

"_Awesome, Case," he managed, too surprised say something sarcastic. Casey absolutely adored Wicked. Maybe Dennis had put a little thought into it, after all._

_Casey flashed another brilliant smile at him before skipping a few steps back; Derek got the feeling she was about to break into a pirouette in the middle of the crowded sidewalk._

"_Oh!" Casey realized suddenly, stopping and raising a hand for them to pause as well, though neither of them was moving. "But what will I_ wear_?"_

_Dennis thought for a moment. "Why don't you and Derek head out a little early? I'll give you my card and you can find something new somewhere." He pulled out an extra credit card even as he said it, and handed the square of plastic to his daughter. Derek could tell she was warring with herself, but her desire for a new outfit and her vestiges of excitement obviously outweighed her restraint, and she snatched up the card after only a few seconds, smiling at her dad once more._

_She must have been in a good mood, because then she turned that smile on her stepbrother, and asked genuinely, "Derek? Is that okay?" She waited expectantly, apparently okay with whichever answer he wanted to give her, though she was practically bouncing for an affirmation._

_He watched her, struggling to find a roundabout way of saying 'no,' as she continued to stare eagerly at him. _I am so far gone, _Derek thought with a groan; only now that he had realized it, he didn't seem to be able to stop himself. Her hopeful expression was too much for him._

"_Sure, whatever," he found himself agreeing._

"_Thank you!" she squealed—sounding entirely too much like Emily in her middle school years—and pulled him half-up from his perch into an enthusiastic hug before he could object. She didn't seem to realize what she had done as she released him and started walking happily in the direction of her dad's appartment, leaving Derek momentarily stunned behind her. But he gathered himself before anyone could notice and quickly hurried after, contenting himself with a sarcastic:_ Shopping. Great.

"Are you going to buy or rent?" Casey asked, poising her pen to write even as she walked. It was their second tour of duty, but already the afternoon. Derek had been up and ready by nine, expecting Casey to already be knocking down his door, but surprisingly she had not shown until after eleven. She had been flustered and looked sleep deprived, but she gave him a cursory, 'I overslept,' before dropping the subject and hurrying him out the door.

"Rent," Derek stated emphatically, and Casey glanced up at him.

"Are you sure? You might get a better fit if you just bought one. Then you could alter as needed. And I know Kendra would—"

"Case," he cut her off, slightly exasperated. "A rented tux will look exactly the same as if I bought one." He could tell she was opening her mouth to argue, so he added, "Besides. I'm not made of money, you know. I can't use it all up before the real expenses start." That dampened his mood somewhat, as it always did. Sure he paid his own bills now, but he knew Kendra, and he knew marriage itself was expensive. There went retiring to the beach.

He ignored Casey's muttering, amongst which he distinctly heard, "pretending to be responsible to get out of this."

They stepped up onto the sidewalk running parallel to the strip of shops, and Derek pushed through the glass door with the pseudo-sophisticated lettering, Casey close behind.

The salesgirl glanced up with obvious boredom at the chime of the bell, caught Derek's eye, and perked up, a hint of a smile working at the corners of her mouth. She stood, smoothing her black shirt to meet her matching business pants, and briefly toying with the long necklace that dangled just over her breasts, emphasizing what the high collared shirt could not. Derek couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or flattered that random girls were still so obviously smitten with his looks. _Annoyed_, he decided flatly when she sidled up next to him, subtly but deliberately stepping between himself and Casey and forcing the older girl to take a step back. Casey seemed rather miffed, he noted, a bit of his irritation fading in favor of amusement.

"Welcome to 'Black Tie.' My name is Madison," she introduced, slipping her hand into Derek's. He shook it briefly, then dropped it. Madison continued unperturbed. "What are you looking for?"

"A tux," Derek said simply, albeit somewhat unwillingly. He glanced at Casey; she was obviously itching to take charge, and he gladly deferred to her.

"Something classic, but not too sophisticated." Derek glanced at her, wondering if that was an insult, but she continued without glancing at him, so he dismissed it. Probably had to do with some wedding scheme or something. "But maybe something a little out of the ordinary. Just a _little_," she repeated, glancing at the girl and probably questioning her competency. "Classic black, of course," she went on after her qualms were somewhat sated.

Madison eyed Casey, then glanced back to Derek. "Right this way," she said, remaining chipper.

Casey wasted no time in marching after the girl, and Derek reluctantly trudged along behind. They walked past the suits, past the rows of catalogues, and toward the back, where pieces of tuxes were arranged about the walls.

"We already have his measurements." Casey's voice broke Derek from his thoughts—namely, if they were ever going to get out of here with all this selection and Casey's perfectionist attitude. He glanced up in time to see the sales associate drop the tape back into a drawer with a sigh before turning to accept the sheet Casey had given her.

"We do?" he asked, raising a brow.

"Yes," Casey reminded him with vague impatience, pushing his shoulder in the direction the girl had gone. "Nora bought you a new suit for your dad's promotion last year?" she reminded before following the girl herself.

"Vest color?" The girl's dark brown hair bounced as she swung around to ask, and Derek could tell she was disappointed at his lack of response. _Maybe once_, Derek thought ruefully. But he was too aware of the tricks to fall for them.

"Silver," Casey answered immediately, stepping between them so the girl knew who was in charge of this whole business. "Or ivory," she added after a moment, looking thoughtful.

The girl simply nodded and set about darting from rack to rack, looking for the correct articles of clothing.

She returned, and Derek took them with a sigh, slipping into the white-ish one first; as he shook off his jacket, Casey set about ordering the next article found. He didn't bother to button the vest, and was surprised when Casey didn't complain. Instead she watched him with a quirk of the mouth, eyes slanted oddly.

"It's a good color for you," she finally said, and Derek shrugged. One of his college girlfriends—he used the term loosely—had been some kind of makeup something, and she told him he was a _warm_, whatever that meant. But this vest seemed to fit that category much more than the other, so perhaps she was right. He was slightly surprised when Casey shook her head and gestured him to remove it.

"I don't know why I bothered with that one anyway. Kendra said silver." She handed the vest back to the girl, who had reappeared with a pair of pants, and motioned for Derek to step into the dressing room. He grabbed the pants and other vest, willing not to argue so long as they could leave more quickly, and shut the door behind him before quickly slipping into the clothing. This time Casey did frown when he emerged, but the other girl was faster.

She darted forward, managing to appear helpful rather than intrusive, as Derek suspected her of being, and made quick work of doing up the buttons. Then she grabbed the jacket she had slung across a rack and turned to help him into it.

"Tie," Casey muttered to herself, glancing back at him before drifting closer to the front of the store, where the obnoxious things were displayed.

Derek began to feel slightly uncomfortable as he stuffed his arms into the jacket. He tried to button that himself, but found it was already halfway done before he even got there. He gave up with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

"It's nice of your sister to help out," the salesgirl—he had forgotten her name, and didn't bother to glance at her tag—interjected after a moment, glancing up at him with a too big smile. "Most families nowadays aren't willing to take the time."

Derek suppressed a cringe, and another when Casey spoke, smiling with an equally fake turn of her lips as she rejoined them, several long pieces of cloth in hand.

"Well, he certainly couldn't do it on his own, could he?" The sales associate glanced up, obviously having expected her to deny any relation. She probably thought Casey was his girlfriend or something. But as the girl's face began to drift into a pleased smile, Casey interjected, "Besides, his fiancée is in New York looking for a wedding dress, and what else is family for?" That statement simultaneously caused the smile to drop off the salesgirl's face and Derek's stomach to twist in an uneasy knot of frustration. Casey was perfectly aware of how much he detested the family reference. _Stupid, easy way out_, he muttered internally, his earlier reserves growing more pronounced.

The salesgirl recovered quickly, though. "Wow. You look awfully young to be getting married," she said as she grabbed a black strip from Casey's hand and reached up to drape it around his neck.

Derek shrugged. "I'm twenty-six."

If he'd had any hope that the fact would put her off, he was let down immediately.

"That's not so old," she said, smiling sweetly and looking up at him. Casey made a disgruntled noise, which the girl chose to ignore, but Derek couldn't help but agree with. "Much too young to be giving it all up for _one girl_." This girl would not stop. Derek had to wonder if her employer had made the mistake of thinking a flirtatious worker would sell more suits; there was no other explanation for her employment. _Likely_, he thought with a grimace. _It worked at Smelly Nelly's, after all_.

There was a light tinkling from the door, and Casey's eyes brightened as the girl casually glanced over her shoulder to investigate, making sure to flip her hair in the process.

"Oh, look. It seems you have another customer," Casey said with a polite smile and understanding expression. "That's quite alright, we can handle things here." Then, when the girl hesitated, "I know a thing or two about tuxes. I dated a guy Junior year whose parents were always going to these political events," she added with a dismissing wave. Derek frowned at the memory. Even barring the fact that he had dated Casey, Fitzwilliam—that was actually his name; as if he weren't pretentious enough already—was not one of Derek's favorite people. "Junior year of _University_," Casey added, just a little patronizingly, though Derek was sure she had tried to keep that out of her tone. Derek rolled his eyes; the sales associate was young, but she had to be at least twenty. He watched her mouth twist in distaste as she nodded reluctantly. Then she turned to him.

"Let me know if you need _anything_," she emphasized, throwing him a coy smile before flitting across the room to help the new arrival. Even from that distance, he could see her eyes brighten considerably when the man through the door was also somewhat attractive, and a bit more in her age range.

"Ridiculous," Casey muttered, before reaching up to finish job the other girl had left half-done. Derek looked at her in surprise, but was glad to realize she was too busy with her task to notice. His face was casual again as she slipped the fabric around itself once more and pulled the knot tight.

Casey twisted and adjusted his bowtie—which was definitely overkill, in Derek's book—with perfunctory skill, before dropping her arms to tug at the ends of his sleeves, all the while muttering about useless salespeople. She grabbed his shoulders and twisted him around, and he felt almost like a misbehaven child. Holding him at arms' length in front of the mirror, he saw her reflected eyes dart down to the back of his shoes, where even he could tell the fabric of his pants hit too high. Sighing, she refocused on the jacket, tugging at the sides before reaching up to straighten the collar. He tried not to swallow as her fingers brushed the nape of his neck, making the hair stand on end. It was no use, though, when her fingers gentled, running from his collar and across his shoulders, lightly dusting invisible lint from the jacket. He glanced in the mirror to distract himself, and was surprised to find her eyes unfocused, staring at his back with a soft gaze. He wasn't sure whether to feel surprised or angry at the emotions hinted beneath the blue. His shoulders must have tensed, because she blinked suddenly, head snapping up as she took a quick step backwards and twisted her hands unrelentingly together.

"Well, the jacket is nice, but those pants are ridiculous," she said clearly, coolly. As if she could just pretend nothing happened. Which, he supposed, she could. After all, wasn't that what she'd been doing since they graduated?

"And I think a tie would be better," she continued, reaching up to roughly rip the bow free and slide the cloth from around his neck. "You look too much like a penguin."

_So the penguins at school don't make fun of you . . . ._

Now where had that thought come from? Derek was distracted by his half-hearted effort to recall as Casey discarded the rumpled fabric onto a nearby chair, causing Derek's brow to quirk. She must be agitated.

She must have realized it, too, because she took a deep breath and turned on her heel, escaping to some other part of the small building under guise of finding something more suitable.

Derek clenched his teeth as she disappeared behind a rack, annoyed. After everything, she still had to go and do things like that, didn't she? What was almost more disconcerting was his reaction to her touch. Usually he could manage on his own fairly well, but the unexpected intimate contact was too much for him to handle, apparently. _After all these years of repression and denial, it hasn't changed a bit_, he thought bitterly. He couldn't help but feel angry with himself for allowing it to happen, just as he was angry at Casey for continuing to pretend it hadn't. He didn't even know if he was talking about the past or the present anymore.

"You can do this yourself, can't you?" Casey asked, reappearing on his left and tossing him a simple black tie; he caught it with one hand and glanced at it. Upon closer inspection it had some sort of multi-facet thing going on, so sometimes the black looked almost charcoal silver. He whipped it around his neck and quickly set about tying the damn thing, trying to suppress his anger as he did so.

"Why are we doing this now, anyway," Derek asked as a distraction. It hadn't crossed his mind before, as he was set on just letting Casey run the planning thing, but now it kind of grated at him.

"Because," Casey replied with a light harrumph. "There are only so many things we can do with Kendra gone, and this is probably the most important." She pondered that for a moment, then amended, "Well, it's one of the only things we don't really need Kendra for. Except for the color scheme," she added after a moment.

Derek rolled his eyes, tightening the knot.

"Whatever."

"Besides," Casey added in a slightly lighter tone, glancing at him in the mirror. "It's out of the way, now, isn't it? You just have to send in the order sheet and pick it up. They'll fill it out when we're done with everything you need."

"Okay," he agreed somewhat reluctantly, as he finished with the tie and turned. He could sense she was trying to make a truce of some sort, and though he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to accept, his obnoxious mature side told him he should, if for no other reason than that they were working together. His more obnoxious, evocative side told him that he sort of liked when Casey was civil towards him without acting like she was only speaking to him because of mutual relations. He dismissed the thought of both as Casey nodded in satisfaction.

"Well, it just looks like we need to find some pants, then," she said, all business again. Derek sighed in relief, and followed her across the store.

**ASASASASASASASAS**

Well there it is, for what it's worth. Hmm, musings from the author. I actually didn't notice the penguin coincidence until my final run through, so I hope the quote-back didn't seem too out of place. And I've gone a little flashback crazy these past few days—I'm absolutely loving writing the New York bit, so I hope everyone enjoys what's coming—and if you're lucky it didn't seem too overboard. I'm a little worried that I went crazy with the detail, but I guess that's for you guys to point out, if you feel the need. This flashback was kind of a lead up, anyway. I'm also a little worried about keeping the past!Dasey and present!Dasey separate, personality-wise, but I think I managed okay. Let me know if I didn't. And now, since I can't think of anything else to critique and because I have finals in the morning (which this chapter helped me not study for ), I'll stop rambling. If you have love or hate to share, my comment box is always open.


	13. That Never Sleeps

Derek whooshed to his feet with most of the crowd, cupping his hands around his mouth to hoot exultantly as the forward pumped

Okay, so my laptop got this really awful virus about a month ago, and I basically had all the juicy parts of the next three chapters (or parts of the good stuff, anyway) written, and--stupid me--not backed up. The sad thing is that my ff files were all I tried to save; the happy part is that I succeeded, so you guys won't have to read the cheap redo instead.

I'm also starting to realize how freakishly long it's taking me to write this story. Seriously, I wrote FoF in, like, two months; and now I've written about a third of that length in over a year. So sorry, guys. Really. I miss this story. So here you are, hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer: Eh, you know how it goes.**

_I can do this_, Casey assured herself, staring outside the moderately clean but vaguely disconcerting building. She had her hand pressed against the door as if to open it, but her arm refused to exert any more effort. _I can, _she repeated to herself, flexing her fingers. After all, it was just a gesture. A gesture of goodwill. An offer of friendship.

_Nope,_ Casey countermanded her own thoughts. _Just a gesture. No friendship to complicate things_._ A truce, maybe._

_Why is this so difficult?_ She asked herself as her hand inched inexorably downward, palm drifting outward until just her fingers rested against the glass, which was probably dirtier than she wanted to know. She shook that off to continue convincing herself. _I simply finished work early. This needs to be done, and I can make things a little easier. For Derek _and_ for me. It's the perfect peace offering, not too difficult but still clearly helpful. Why is this hard? _She repeated internally.

She knew why. Because much as she wanted to deny it, she still didn't trust herself. She had been such a bitch to Derek in the past it might not even work, but if it did she didn't trust herself not to want more. Maybe she did only want friendship again, to be _normal_ again, but after pondering it all week she had reluctantly decided her feelings wouldn't stay buried for long.

_But maybe for long enough, if I try_, she reasoned with herself. She only had to make it to the wedding, after all. And despite herself, she found she _wanted_ to know Derek again. For the first time in a long while, she was interested in Derek _now_, not just who he'd been when they were teenagers. She was genuinely intrigued by him again.

Ignoring the obstinate, _this is why you stopped talking to him in the first place_, Casey determinedly placed both hands on the door and shoved. It opened with an obnoxious 'ding,' and Casey nearly tripped when she glanced up instinctively toward the sound, only to catch her heel on the edge of the carpet. She righted herself, quickly glancing around to find she was the only customer in the small, one-roomed record store. Brushing it off, along with the lint on her skirt, Casey took at deep breath and got back to her purpose.

"Hello," she greeted pleasantly, deciding that if someone were stacking things he was probably employed here and making her way over to a man in slightly ratty khakis and a bright t-shirt. "I'm looking for local bands I could book. For a wedding," she added, deciding to specify as a memory of _George and the Jungle_ popped into her mind, complete with subsequent shudder. "I was wondering if you had anything I could—." She broke off as the employee, still stacking CDs, heaved a sigh.

"Over there."

The middle aged man pointed, boredom coloring the motion, to a small stack of CDs balanced haphazardly by the register. Casey frowned and approached the counter warily, picking up the top album as though the whole stack might fall.

_Well it might_, she justified as she flipped over the case—one of those you bought in packs of ten at Office Max—to read the handwritten song titles on the back.

"That's it?" Casey asked, surprised as she glanced back to speak to the single employee. "One demo? No video of previous performances, no live auditions, not even a whole CD? Just a demo with _one song_?"

"What do you expect?" he asked, turning toward her with an expression of barely interested irritation. "Computers and ipods; that's all people want these days. Geeze, lady, just go to MySpace next time." Then he turned and very deliberately returned to stacking.

Casey shook off his insulting use of the word 'lady' with a slight grimace—she was, in fact, at least twenty years younger than him, and his tone had been entirely too rude. Wrinkling her nose, she wished she had brought Derek after all. Despite his many flaws, he had the tendency to charm people, and after his stint at Smelly Nelly's he knew how to play it with disgruntled employees. Shaking off the useless thought, she placed the CD onto the counter as the beginning of the reject pile, which quickly grew to contain all but five of the other CDs. Feeling as though she had wasted both the hour and her gesture of goodwill, Casey scurried out the door as soon as the walking ad for staying in school waved off her deposit. _He probably doesn't want them back_, she thought sourly as she walked to her car, pulling out her cell phone as she reversed out of the parking space. She got Derek's voicemail, as expected, and left a quick message.

"_Hey, Derek. It's Casey. Yeah. Um, I got off work a little early, so I stopped by that music store and picked up a few choices for the wedding band. Well, the CDs, I mean. The selection wasn't really great, though. And who hires these employees? I mean, you'd think a manager would look for someone with the least bit of courtesy and—"_

Realizing with a jolt that she sounded like a nervous idiot, Casey quickly added:

"_So, I'm dropping them in your box, and you can listen to them later. Bye."_

Clicking the phone off, Casey slid it back into her clutch with a sigh, resisting the urge to massage her temples.

With a mental, _Nice, McDonald_, Casey turned onto the street in the direction of Derek's apartment. It wasn't five minutes later that her phone buzzed with a new text message, and she could practically hear Derek's amused tones as she read: _Why didn't you just use the net?_

As she walked up the pathway to her own modest home, annoyed by her wholly failed afternoon, Casey heard the familiar sound of her phone ringing. Upon seeing the Caller ID she contemplated letting it ring out, but in the end decided it wouldn't do as much in relieving her stress as it would in causing it, in the long run.

So she flipped the phone open and chirped a tired, "Hi, Kendra."

"Casey!" Kendra greeted, as enthusiastic as ever. Despite her own tendency toward over-the-top cheerfulness, Casey often wondered if the other woman ever got tired of being happy so much.

"So," she went on merrily, oblivious to Casey's thoughts. "Are you making things _amazing_ for me? I know you are," she went on before Casey could respond. "You're just so sweet and organized like that."

_Not that the two synonyms really go together_, Casey pondered, wondering why everyone always seemed to tell her that.

"Thanks, Kendra," she responded as she turned her key in the lock and pushed open her front door. "Everything's great." Hanging her purse on the hook, she quickly went through her mental checklist, listing her accomplishments for the bride. "We've finished the fittings and found Derek's tux, started the music and reserved the chapel, and I've talked the caterers down five dollars per plate, but we still have to sample the wines."

Casey had been surprised that task had been left to them, until Derek told her that Kendra didn't drink. She was surprised, to say the least—Kendra had always seemed the type, if not to spike the punch, then at least to sip a Cosmo—but apparently the blonde had never concerned herself with acquiring a taste. Casey felt momentarily guilty that she had never bothered enough to learn this, but quickly brushed off the thought; she knew why she and Kendra weren't friends, despite liking each other well enough.

So the wine decision was left up to Derek, and subsequently Casey, because she didn't trust her stepbrother's preferences.

"And how's my groom?" Kendra asked suggestively, accepting Casey's handle on things without another thought.

"Bored," Casey answered after a moment, unsure of what else to say. How could she correctly assess Derek when she couldn't even get her own brain in order? Besides, she was sure Kendra had talked to Derek herself.

She was graced with a laugh across the phone, and decided to intervene in case Kendra asked for specifics.

"So, how's New York?"

"Oh, fabulous," Kendra answered, and Casey knew she was sufficiently distracted. "My interview was pushed back—something about a fashion emergency," Kendra joked with a slight laugh. "But that just gives me a few extra days to shop."

Casey knew well enough that 'shop' was the key word and took the opportunity to slip off her shoes, curling up on the couch and waiting for Kendra's excited diatribe.

"Oh, Casey, they have the best _everything_. I've been trying to be good and stay away from Fifth, but you know me. And it just _calls_ to me, you know? Well, you know," Kendra answered her own question, before starting off on a bunny trail. "Like, remember that summer we were all in New York. Well, that weekend in that summer, anyway. You found the most _adorable_ stuff, and at a bargain, which I can never seem to manage . . . ." She trailed off awkwardly, and Casey wondered Kendra had registered her catch of breath a few seconds late. She cringed, pulling her legs up to her chest and switching the phone to her other ear, hoping Kendra would continue.

There was a long pause, during which Casey almost _felt_ Kendra wondering what to say. Of course the other girl knew New York was a bad memory for Casey, but she didn't know the full extent of it. _Thank goodness for small favors_.

"But, you know I have to be good this week," Kendra finally continued, purposely focusing on the end of her last sentence.

Casey breathed a soundless sigh of relief, feeling inexplicably grateful for Kendra in that moment.

"I mean, I've saved up quite a bit of my own, but I can't expect Derek to pay for _everything_. I mean, this will be a modern marriage. Sort of," Kendra amended, acknowledging her tendency to ignore practical things; Casey was sure she only brought it up in hopes of distracting her. "But anyway," Kendra continued, returning to her original spiel. "He won't be happy if I blow the whole thing on some Versace original. Especially if my savings don't cover it and he has to make up the difference; which, okay, I would probably end up doing. So, you know, it's better to avoid it altogether. But it's just so _tempting_.

"Hey," Kendra interrupted herself, seemingly struck by some great inspiration. "I wonder if I can get a custom wedding gown if my interview goes well."

Casey decided not to comment on the improbability of that, choosing instead to let Kendra spin her fantasies farther. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to Kendra—well, maybe just a bit—but she just couldn't, at the moment. So she listened to Kendra go off on a tangent about the perfect wedding dress, which Casey was sure she had heard at least once before, and let her mind check out.

_Casey couldn't help but smiling. She had managed to block the _incident_ from her mind with some degree of success, so her attitude towards her stepbrother was significantly improved. Besides, whatever awful_ _reasons he had had for the whole thing, he obviously felt sort of bad about it. He had barely complained during the whole shopping trip, and she could admit that his sarcasm had actually been somewhat entertaining, rather than the cruel kind he so often employed. And now they were sitting in a cab, on their way to the café where Kendra and her cousin were eating lunch. Even that didn't manage to damper her mood. It was obvious that Derek felt a little bit antsy about the situation, but, being Derek, he had suppressed it to the point that even Casey, well-versed in his moods, could barely tell. She was sure they could all manage a friendly meeting; who knew, they might even have fun. A little._

Well,if worse comes to worst I can always distract Kendra with my spoils, _Casey thought impishly. She knew whatever awkward tension managed to arise would be dispelled with Kendra's love of all things Fifth Avenue. Even if it _was _from H&M. Besides, this outfit was adorable. Even Derek had managed a disgruntled, "'s pretty," after Casey had pestered him for a few minutes, and despite the begrudged nature of the compliment, she had thought it sounded genuine. He had taken the time to look up and see her in it, at least._

_A happy beat danced into Casey's consciousness, and she grabbed her phone from the top of her bag and flashed it to her ear, murmuring a chipper, "Hello."_

"_Casey?"_

_Casey briefly registered that her mother's tone was off, and wondered if she was worried about their trip home; there was no way her father would have told Nora he let two teenagers navigate New York City by themselves, so she couldn't be worried about that. Slightly concerned, Casey asked, "Mom? Dad told you that he pushed back our flight tomorrow, right?" Then, allowing some excitement to leak into her voice, "he's taking me to see_ Wicked _tomorrow, just him and me. Can you believe it?"_

"_Casey," her mom brushed off her excitement, and her voice was full of suppressed worry. "The hospital called."_

"_The hospital?" Casey asked, all excitement draining out of her. She dimly noted that Derek's head whipped around to face her, and a frown appeared on his face. "Why?" Before her mother could answer, her fear bubbled over into fast paced rambling. "Lizzie didn't get hurt in Tae Quan Do or something, did she? Or did Marti try to jump off the banister at Emily's again? Or is Edwin . . . ." she trailed off, unable to come up with a suitable situation for injury, and bit her lip in worry. The cab driver glanced in the rearview mirror, as if afraid she was going to make a scene, and Derek scooted closer, questions written on his features. He was angled toward her, and his knee brushed against her own, soothing her frazzled nerves to some small degree. But her mother's silence brought the fear back up tenfold, and Casey's thoughts jumped to worse and worse conclusions. Her mom rarely couldn't find at least _some_ words; it must be bad._

"_Is it George?" she asked in a fearful whisper, aware that Derek's jaw clenched as he slid a few inches closer. "Was there an accident? Did something . . . " she trailed off, and then an awful thought struck her. "It's his heart, isn't it? He's past middle age, and with the way he eats . . . the doctor must have told him to cut back, but he could never give up all that fat in his diet, and . . ." she trailed off again, stomach clenching. Derek inclined his head toward her, obviously trying to hear her mother's response, but gave up with a worried growl of frustration when the honking horns and general tumult of the New York streets rendered the effort useless. Casey brushed her fingers absently against his knee in what she hoped was a comforting gesture, but the whole of her attention was focused on her mother's words._

"_No, Casey, of course not. It's not George. It's none of us," she assured, and Casey let her shoulders slump in relief. Derek read her sudden calmness and let out a sigh of his own. "It's . . ." Nora continued hesitantly, and Casey suddenly caught a tone of suppressed panic in her mother's voice. Casey's back was suddenly rigid, and Derek glanced at her with concern. "It's . . ." her mother said again, before the words began to rush out. "It's just that he never changed his emergency contacts, Casey, and I don't know what they expect me to do about it because I'm all the way up here, but they had to call_ someone _and let them know, and I guess I was the only option, but they won't tell me what happened, really; just enough to worry me, and Casey, I just don't know what to do, but then I remembered you, and it's just so lucky, really, and I don't mean to put extra pressure on you, but if you could just get down to Madison Avenue you can handle things at Mt. Sinai—that's the hospital—and—"_

"_Wait, Mom, what?" Casey interjected in alarm when her mother took a brief pause for air. "Slow down," she advised, trying to quell her fears. "What's going on?" she asked after a moment, her voice an octave too high. The whole suppressing her panic thing wasn't working too well._

"_It's your father," her mother finally got out, and Casey's heart clenched even as her fingers, still resting lightly against Derek's leg, suddenly clenched in a death grip on his thigh._

"_What?" Casey asked faintly, feeling lightheaded. But she had just seen him. What could have possibly . . . ._

_Nora took a deep breath to calm herself before saying, "He's been shot."_

_Casey's brain shut down, and she didn't register her hands numbly flipping the phone shut before her mother could say anything more, or Derek's expression turn from concern to alarm as he leaned forward to catch the phone that tumbled from her limp fingers. _

_It wasn't true. It couldn't be. It didn't make any sense. Sure, New York was notorious for its crime rates, but her dad was well off. He would have been in the business end of town, not one of the_ bad_ parts, not someplace where_ this . . . .

_Derek's warm hand, encompassing the top of her arm as he tried to get her attention, quelling his own panic to deal with hers, finally brought her back enough to whisper, still disbelieving, "It's my dad."_

_Derek stiffened in surprise, then began flustering, obviously unsure of what to say or how to deal with the breakdown that was obviously coming. But saying it out loud gave Casey a shot of reality, and she suddenly realized that she had to be_ there_, at the hospital, to see if he was okay, to see if . . . . _

_Anger built up in her suddenly, and it allowed her to shove her suffocating fears away and she straightened resiliently and ordered, "Mt. Sinai Hospital." _

_The cabbie glanced up, surprised at being addressed, and Casey ignored this and the fact that Derek's face had settled into piercing concern. _

"_NOW," she added sharply, not caring how bitchy she sounded, just so long as they got there, and soon. The cabbie sensed the command in her tone and grabbed the wheel tightly, jerking it sideways to fit in a space Casey would have thought much too small on any other day. Now, she was wondering what had taken him so long._

"_Casey?" Derek's hand moved up her shoulder and across her back, rubbing it in a tentative soothing motion, but keeping the rest of his body carefully away. She didn't shrug it off—she needed the companionship, whatever the state of her mind—but she did her best to repress its comforting effects; she needed her determination now—any wavering, and she might just fall apart. So she contented herself with taking deep, calming breaths as the car sped through the congestion, somehow more erratically than before, yet still_ too damn slow.

_When they pulled up to the entrance, Casey didn't pause to count the change, throwing two twenties at the cab driver and darting out of the door almost before he had stopped. Derek followed only slightly more slowly, pausing to pocket her cell phone and grab the purse and shopping bags she had abandoned on the seat before following her at a jog. He might have said her name, in some attempt at calming her or slowing her pace, but Casey focused on the revolving doors with single-minded purpose and, once she had conquered those, marched straight up to the desk and announced, "McDonald."_

_The nurse glanced up, obviously suppressing a frown, but she looked used to this sort of thing. Casey couldn't bring herself to care._

"_What's the first name, dear?" she asked instead, and her slow, even words annoyed Casey. Couldn't she see how_ urgent _this was?_

"_Dennis," Casey said shortly. "Dennis McDonald. I'm his daughter." She gave the woman a look that she hoped would hurry her, but the woman simply turned to the computer and began typing something._

"_Ah, yes," she said in infuriatingly calm tones, before moving her hand to press an intercom button. "Dr. Stetson? Dr. Stetson? A Casey McDonald is here." _

_Casey stared her down as she released the button, but rather than asking her to sit, the woman motioned her to the right of the counter, where a middle aged woman in scrubs and a lab coat was making her way out a narrow door. Casey latched onto the sight and strode purposefully toward her, Derek almost keeping pace as he followed, seemingly unsure of what to do._

"_Miss McDonald?" the doctor asked. "I'm Ginevra Stetson." Upon receiving Casey's punctual nod and impatient wave to continue, the doctor launched her explanation. "First of all, let me assure you that your father is no longer critical." The woman probably meant the statement to calm her, but all Casey could do is latch onto the words 'no longer' with sinking horror. She could feel her determination sliding away, and she grasped at it frantically. "He is nearly out of surgery, and things are looking promising." Somehow, she couldn't get her mind to focus on the words. It was all too much, too much to handle, and she knew she couldn't last much longer._

"_Wait, almost out of surgery?" Derek interjected for her. When the doctor didn't answer, instead looking at Derek questioningly, he firmly stated, "I'm her stepbrother," and watched the doctor, daring her to object. She only nodded and continued._

"_It took a good deal of time to reach Mr. McDonald's ex-wife, Mr.—" she broke off, questioning, until Derek supplied his last name. "Mr. Venturi," Dr. Stetson amended. "The bullet entered between his fifth and sixth ribs and grazed his lungs. We've managed to remove the bullet and stop most of the bleeding, but some of it was internal and harder to stop. He is stable, but he also sustained trauma to the head, during the fall we suspect, and he'll probably be unconscious for a few days, at least."_

_Casey couldn't bring herself to comprehend a single word the doctor had spoken. She felt dizzy now that her forced strength had abandoned her, and her brain was sluggish._

"_So," she began, before stopping for a breath. The doctor turned to look at her, and Derek caught her elbow in a steadying gesture. It helped her gather her thoughts, meager as they were. "So, is he okay?" she asked in a waver._

_Casey couldn't comprehend the sympathetic expression that crossed the doctor's face as she glanced at Casey, then looked at Derek in askance before turning her head to engage the young woman fully._

"_Yes, Miss McDonald. He's fine." Casey knew there had to be more to it than that, but she couldn't think past the relief flowing through her, and the sudden weariness pressing down on her. She sagged slightly, and feeling a good bit of her weight resting on Derek's steadying hand, forced her knees to straighten. Still, Derek grabbed her elbow more tightly and led her to a row of chairs sitting against the wall; she felt her feet tripping under her as she stumbled beside him, and briefly wondered where all of his 'Klutzilla' jokes were. But then he was guiding her into a seat, pushing her shoulders back against the wall until she gave up and slumped against the back. Closing her eyes she tried to regulate her breathing, which suddenly seemed short, and grasped at the thoughts that refused to form. _

_Where's Derek? she thought suddenly, panic brewing. Her eyes flashed open, scanning, not quite frantic. There, she registered dimly. He was still talking to the doctor, standing only a few feet away. A few mangled fragments of their conversation drifted to her—"crime-lord . . . witness of a . . . your stepmother about the particulars—" but her brain couldn't assign them any meaning. Her eyes drifted shut again. Her earlier stoicism had sapped her strength and the adrenaline brought on by panic was quickly evaporating. Dimly, she recognized Derek's warm presence sink into the chair next to her, but she was already drifting, fading into a fitful slumber._

_Derek stayed, feeling useless and stupid, to watch Casey jerk around, not really sleeping, until he couldn't take it anymore. Eyes scanning their surroundings, he recognized the nurse's station with a sigh of relief; if anything happened, there were plenty of competent people to watch out for Casey. Standing, he kicked Casey's bags under her chair, behind her legs, and looked around. He saw a sign pointing to the cafeteria and quickly moved in that direction. He could use a cup of coffee._

Casey could, too_,_ _he thought with a glance backwards, suppressing his uncertainties. He had the feeling her fitful slumber would be short lived._

_It didn't take him long to find the cafeteria, or to order his drink. He took it to a table in the corner without pausing for cream or sugar, resisting the urge to stare blankly into the inky contents of the Styrofoam cup. He took a deep gulp, and let the soothing bitter taste warm him._

_This sort of shit didn't really happen. Criminal lawyers didn't get shot when some mafia wannabe tried to shoot the witness. Their estranged daughters didn't get the news secondhand and have to rush to the hospital._

_He remembered his thoughts the day before, wondering why Dennis could wait one effing day, and felt a surge of anger toward the man, unfair as it was. Dennis was lying in a hospital bed, gravely injured; the least Derek could do was feel sorry for him. But every time he tried an awful image came to him, the look on Casey's face as her knees gave out, and he just couldn't do it._

_Draining the rest of his coffee, he slammed the insubstantial cup back onto the table before standing abruptly._

"_Stupid," he muttered viciously, at what he didn't know, as he crumpled the cup in one fist and cocked his arm._

_Tossing his cup in a stainless steel garbage can, he made his way back to the counter and dug out the money for another coffee. This time he did stop at the end of the counter, dumping in two packets of cream and a handful of sugars and resisting the urge to wrinkle his nose as he stirred. He left the coffee stirrer on the counter, dripping a pool of brown onto the previously spotless counter, and exited the cafeteria as he popped the lid onto the cup. _

_Sure enough, by the time he got back to the waiting area Casey was blinking at the fluorescent lights and scowling absently at the many people bustling around the busy hospital. He slid into the seat next her and wordlessly handed her the cup, unsure of what to say. It was disconcerting to someone like him. She took the drink without question, a sure sign of her less than perfect mental state, and sipped on it absently. She seemed to perk up when she realized its contents, and shot him a slightly dulled look of thanks as she took a large gulp. He wasn't quite sure what to do with that._

"_So," Derek began, needing to break the silence so he wasn't stuck analyzing everything. That wouldn't help anybody. Casey's eyes flickered through her lashes to meet his gaze, mouth still attached to the disposable cup as she continued to sip the revitalizing drink._

"_Uh," Derek continued, wracking his brain for something to say. "You okay?" he finally blurted out, trying not to cringe as he said it._

_Casey nodded vaguely, eyes brighter than he was comfortable with, but finally responded with a shaky, "Yes."_

"_Oh," was Derek's brilliant response. "Good."_

_They lapsed back into silence, Casey taking almost non-existent sips of her coffee as she stared blankly ahead and Derek forcing his eyes to dart around the room before his gaze invariable returned to Casey. Derek's brain finally caught up with him, and he excused himself for a few minutes to call Nora, doing his best to evade her freak-out and finally extracting a promise to change their flight. He had a feeling Casey would flip if he tried to make her leave tomorrow._

_When he slid back into his seat, the dazed look was gone from Casey's features; he felt awkward as she watched him sit from the corner of her eye._

_He was back to not knowing what to say. He simply studied her, feeling idiotic but only in the corner of his mind as he watched._

_Somehow, she hadn't cried yet, and he wasn't sure if he were grateful for that or not. But her shirt had managed to get rumpled during her short nap, some of her mascara had streaked as far down as her jaw—how, he wasn't sure—and a few pathetic curls were plastered to the right side of her face when her hair tie had pulled her ponytail in the opposite direction._

_He had to say _something_, because otherwise he would forever feel uncomfortable and out of place, and she would never stop staring at the floor with such awful tension. But he still had no idea what._

"_Casey . . ." he finally managed, not sounding nearly as reassuring as he had hoped. He twisted his mind for something else, something better. But froze as he realized that Casey's head had jerked up, and she was taking quick, alarming breaths. Then she was pressing her lips together frantically and shaking her head back and forth, as if to fight back the tears that welled frighteningly in her eyes._

_Before he could fully register the change, she had twisted in her seat to bury her face in Derek's shoulder, one hand coming up to cling at the fabric against his side. He shrunk back an inch at the emotion tensing her shoulders, mouth working soundlessly as he tried to figure out the best course of action. After a moment, however, as his brain went on autopilot, he felt that he should wrap his arm around her back and use the other to rub her shoulder comfortingly; after another moment's hesitation, he proceeded to do so. _

_Casey seemed to sink into him, and Derek instinctively turned his head to brush his lips against Casey's hair . . . and distanced himself with a jolt as soon as his brain caught up with him. He only ever did that with Marti, and infrequently at that. Why in the world had he felt the need to do so with_ Casey?

_Maybe it was that he thrived on irritating her, but right now she was too weak to fight back. Maybe it was that she looked so_ small, _and he was the only one around to comfort her. Maybe it was that she did remind him of Marti in a way; that she just couldn't do anything for herself at the moment and that meant she needed him. Maybe it was that he couldn't just sit there, he had to be needed to eradicate his uncharacteristic feelings of uselessness._ Whatever it is, it will never happen again, _he swore to himself and he casually shifted Casey away from him, so she was simply cradled under one arm in a universal gesture of safety. _Nothing the least bit incriminating, now.

_But he wondered if that was best, as he saw the slightly haunted look reappeared on Casey's eyes._

**DCDCDCDCDCDC**

Okay, well there's that. Hopefully there aren't too many typos, but I'm noticing a lot of the ones in my previous chapters were because ff net randomly deleted stuff. Whatever, haha. Let me know what you think!


	14. Just Leave Me Alone

By the time Casey fell asleep, Derek was exhausted

**Disclaimer: They aren't mine, I just like to torture them.**

_By the time Casey fell asleep, Derek was exhausted. His brain hurt, his eyes hurt, his throat was dry from his pointless arguments, and he was more emotionally drained than he cared to admit. Of course, he wasn't one to talk. He had unsuccessfully tried to make Casey leave for dinner, and ended up bringing her a plate of Mac and Cheese from the cafeteria, which she barely even attempted to eat. If he weren't so worried about her, he would be annoyed at the waste of five bucks. He had tried to convince her to leave twice more after that, the last a little after midnight, before realizing his persuasive techniques were failing—due to a combination of her stubbornness and the fact that her brain only registered half of what he said. _

_He had given up with resigned irritation and left her on that same chair to find a nurse, whom he managed to sweet talk into finding him an empty cot for the night. Casey barely seemed to notice when he pushed her onto it, rolling over to stare blankly at the wall. He watched until she fell asleep; then, unsure of what else to do with himself, he wandered aimlessly, wondering if asking for another cot would be pushing his luck. By the time he got back to his stuff it was a little after one thirty, and he was pretty intent on just sprawling out across a few chairs and passing out for a few days._

_Which is why the periodic beeping of his phone grated so much on his nerves. He knew Nora had probably left him at least three more messages, and there were probably tons of other people who thought they could use him to reach Casey. _

_He really didn't want to go through this right now. But he found, after a few minutes of trying to sleep, that simply leaving them for tomorrow was going to cause more stress than getting taking care of it would. He rolled over with a grunt, fishing on the floor until he found the phone that was resting just under the seat. He collapsed into his former position—immediately cursing the florescent lights—and squinted at the LCD._

_Yep, home had called about four times; he probably shouldn't have told Nora that Casey was freaking, no matter how much he had glossed it over. After listening to the first two, and Nora's repeated (way too often) insistence that he should call at any hour, he reluctantly punched in the numbers and, only pausing for a minute, hit send with a grimace. It only rang twice._

"_Derek?" came Nora's frantic voice on the other end._

"_Yeah," he responded lowly. It wasn't like the hospital was quiet, but he felt the need to keep his voice down anyway. He wasn't in the mood for some loud discussion that some bored jerk would try to overhear._

"_Finally!" she exhaled loudly, before launching into her monologue. "I thought you were never going to call. I knew Casey wouldn't answer, but I just couldn't go to bed without knowing, and I've been sitting by the phone for just_ hours._ And then no one else could sleep either, well, except for Marti, but then we were all down here and she didn't want to miss out, so she came, too—" _

_Derek had often notice that Casey took after her mom in the panicking department, but he had never been exposed to it as much as tonight. Jeeze, without the opportunity to tease Casey, it was obnoxious._

"_Wait, Nora," he interrupted, before she could detail what all of them had done every minute of those few hours. "Like, everyone's down there? Just sitting in the kitchen, waiting for me to call?"_

"_Of course," his stepmother replied, as if it should be obvious. He propped himself on his elbow, staring in confusion at a light flickering across the room._

"Why_?"_ _He finally asked, too tired to even bother masking the rudeness of the question. Sure, Dennis was injured, badly injured, but it wasn't like Derek was going to know anything about it. And it wasn't like the phone wouldn't wake them up if there were news._

"_Well, Derek," Nora began cautiously, as if she suddenly realized how stressed her stepson really was. "I know you said Dennis was stable, but we're still really worried—" he assumed the 'we' there referred to herself and Lizzie, "—and not just about Dennis, but about Casey, too, and . . ." she trailed off when her words began to speed up, deliberately pausing before starting again. "Well, we all know how high strung Casey can be, and I just think this could be really . . . bad for her."_

_Despite himself, Derek rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to snort. Her dad winding up in the hospital critically injured might be bad for her? Really? He tried to pay attention as Nora continued._

"_I know I didn't go about it the best way," she went on guiltily, "but I just can't let Casey make herself sick with worry. She'll wind up in one of those beds, too, and . . ." as she trailed off, he glanced to the dark corner where the nurse had wheeled Casey's cot, cringing. He knew her well enough to know she would worry herself into a coma, and then come back to yell at him for letting her do so._

"_Just . . . I really appreciate what you're doing for her," Nora said abruptly. "Taking care of everything." The way she said it left a sour taste in his mouth. Like he was being_ responsible,_ or something. "And I know it's a lot to ask, and probably futile anyway, but . . . don't let her get too worked up, okay?"_

_Derek made a noise of noncommittal before brushing off Nora's concerns._

"_She's fine," he fibbed easily. "I mean, yeah, she's freaked out of her mind, but you're blowing this way out of proportion. She's even sleeping," he dismissed casually. Then, hoping to hurry the phone call, he added, "And I'm not," in a way that was meant to guilt trip his step-mom into letting him hang up. But just his luck, she latched onto something else._

"_Oh, so you got back to the apartment all right? I was a little worried, you know. It's late, and you're all by yourselves, and—"_

"_Actually, Nora, we're still at the hospital," Derek blurted out, well aware that the fact would cause another bout of worry. He was right, and he cringed as Nora went on another diatribe, wishing he had thought to lie. He was unexpectedly saved when he heard the phone being ripped from Nora's hand, and his youngest stepsister's voice filled his ear._

"_Derek?" she sounded uncharacteristically hesitant, and he frowned._

"_Yeah, Liz?"_

_Her voice was more confident when she spoke again. "I know you're going crazy right now, with my mom and Casey and all," he could hear her duck away as Nora's offended tones came from somewhere right of her. "But try getting Casey out, alright? She doesn't need to be cooped up thinking about all this until he wakes up," Derek cringed when, at the mention of her dad, Lizzie's strong voice wavered. Was every woman in his life going to have a meltdown on him? But, good old Lizzie, she forced a small laugh and added, "Besides, your dad says you have free reign with the credit card. You should take advantage of him while you can."_

_Derek couldn't help but chuckle as his Dad's voice rose from the background. "Lizzie! I didn't not say_ free reign. _I said if _necessary _. . ." and then, closer to the speaker, "Derek, don't you listen to her. I know where you live, buddy."_

"_Sure, dad," he said, in best his_ I'm only pretending to listen _tone._ _"Whatever you say."_

_The phone was shuffled again, and Derek started to feel unwanted. Or extremely wanted, but in all the wrong ways._

"_Smerek, when are you coming home?" his little sister mumbled sleepily, and his good humor faded back into the protective urges he had been squelching all day. Only now he didn't feel the need to._

"_Soon, Smarti, okay?" he promised, unable to do better than that._

"_You'd better," she warned half-heartedly. "Cause I miss you, and Daphne misses you, and you know she only misses me, most times. And Daphne says to tell you to look after Casey, too, cause she gets herself in lots of trouble sometimes, and Nora isn't there to get her out of it." Derek's mouth twisted at the command, because somehow Marti's comment made Casey seem that much more fragile. Which he_ hated. _Because then he was useless. And he couldn't deal with drama. _

"_Will you?" Marti asked, the forced seriousness dropping from her tone as she worried about his answer. "Even though you fight sometimes, and Nora says you make each other go crazy?"_

_He couldn't answer for a moment. So many freaking stupid things, running through his head. He did not need this right now. But it was Marti, and he knew he had to deal. Finally he managed two short sentences._

"_Yeah, Smarti. I will."_

_Marti sighed, reassured as easily as that. _

"_I love you, Smerek."_

"_I love you, too, Smarti."_

_She sighed again, and Derek was sure she was being settled into someone's lap._

"_Bring me back a bear," she commanded before the phone was taken from her as well. Derek quirked a grin, glad that Marti, at least, would always be Marti._

"_Hey, bro, take care, alright?" was all Edwin said, waiting for mumbled assent before clicking the phone off. Derek silently thanked his little brother, and made a mental note not to noogie him until he left for college. Well, maybe just one or two for old time's sake, but that was it._

_Glancing at his inbox again, Derek registered the remaining messages with a:_ Hell, might as well get it all over with.

_His head began to throb as soon as the message started. Kendra was not her usual happy self, and the three messages she had left him, with increasing irritation, had essentially boiled down to, "You and Casey stood me up!"_

_Derek deleted the messages and tossed his phone onto the chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He had completely forgotten about the missed lunch date until then, and he knew Kendra would not be pleased about it. Running a hand through his hair, he eyed the phone warily before finally snatching it up._ Get it over with, _he repeated, more like a mantra than a legitimate desire now. This time, he had nearly given in to the hope that it would ring out when Kendra finally answered._

"_Derek." She greeted bluntly, her irritation sounding odd against the pulsing music he could hear in the background._

"_Look, Kendra," he began tiredly, annoyed at her annoyance; after all, here he was being the _responsible one_—it even sounded bad in his head—and she was going to give him grief for something that was completely out of his control._

"_If you had gotten lost," Kendra cut him off, deceptively calm, "I might have understood. If you had forgotten," she spit out, halfway between a whine and a sneer, "I might have brushed it off as typical Derek." He knew she didn't mean it as an insult, despite her tone, but he took it as one anyway. "But you just didn't show up!" she finally cried, making him cringe. "We waited so long I was late going back to work! I mean, not that I'm not late a lot anyways, but still! Not even for anything important! Just because we're not dating anymore, Derek, doesn't mean that you can just stand me up whenever you damn well please! I have a life, too, you know, and I don't know what gives you the right to—"_

"_I'm at the hospital," he growled over her, and the flow of words stopped._

"_Wh-what?" All the indignation had melted, and now Kendra, too, sounded small and vulnerable. It irritated him to no end._

"_I mean, not _in _the hospital," he corrected with a frustrated sigh. "But you know, in the waiting room. Casey's dad got hurt, and calling you wasn't exactly high on my priorities list," he told her, a little harsher than he probably should have. But seriously, how much was a guy expected to take?_

_Kendra completely ignored the snub._

"_Oh my gosh, Derek, what happened? Is he okay? Is-is—"_

"_He's fine," Derek intoned for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. "He's, you know, stable and everything."_

_Kendra mumbled something unintelligible, but the tenor of genuine relief was evident. _

"_Oh! Casey," she remembered suddenly. "Is she okay? Oh, that poor thing, I bet she's just going_ insane _right now."_

"_She's sleeping," Derek offered, resisting the urge to quip, '_and insanity would be new?_' But then, because he just couldn't shut his brain up, he added, "But yeah, she's been better."_

_Kendra contemplated this for a moment._

"_What did the family say?"_

_Derek wasn't sure the intent of the question, and he was too tired to really care, but he chose to make a joke out of it._

"_Lizzie's afraid Casey will turn into a zombie for lack of sunlight. Marti wants a bear. Oh, and Dad said I can use his credit card."_

"_Derek," Kendra chastised, but he could tell it was half-hearted. "You just get to sleep and don't worry about a thing, alright?" she commanded, in her rare, take-charge tone. "Everything will be_ fine. _Stop thinking about everyone else's problems," was her final order, before she sighed and ended the call._

_She really did know him too well; he didn't know if that was irritating or amusing. Much as he wanted other people to deal with their own crap, when they tried to dump it on him it just_ pestered _him and_ pestered _him. The realization that they would probably bother him about it in the morning tended to keep him up at night, dreading. Her attempted comfort hadn't done much good, but he did resolutely turn his phone off before lying back on the barely padded chairs and doing his best to sleep._

_**VVVVV**_

_Casey's eyes followed the flow of people through the door and across the waiting area, watching the strangers pass with an interest she knew wasn't healthy. Derek had told her as much, frustrated and exasperated, when he had woken to find her staring at the wall again. But he didn't understand; she couldn't be numb, couldn't ignore the fact that her dad was lying in the hospital, but she could distract herself. Trick herself. Keep the important stuff away, by focusing on—_

Are they serious?_ She thought, her incredulousness slightly dulled by the fact that however much she tried, she didn't really care. Still, some people just had no restraint. What kind of well-wisher brought something that _massive_? The stuffed animal was so big, Casey couldn't even make out the person carrying it, and she was sure they should have run into something by now. The large purple bow twisting around its neck could probably double as a noose—_stop being so morbid!_—and it was fluffy enough that it probably would make a very good bed._

Better than that thing, _Casey complained sourly, glancing at the cot whose mattress was now pushed against the wall to make more room._

_Glancing back to the toy weaving itself through the crowd, Casey squelched her natural impulse to call it cute and instead muttered under her breath about ostentatious displays. Then she dismissed it in favor of more appealing things. Like the perfectly healthy couple walking through the door, not a care in the world, the woman resting an absent-minded hand on her stomach._

People shouldn't be that happy_, she thought bitterly, turning a discreet gaze on Derek. He had tried numerous things to cheer her up—or get her to move at the very least—some of which she knew were out of his comfort zone, like _talking_, but she had been both obstinate and rude in rejecting his subtle offers of help._

He has no idea what I'm going through_, she thought, a bitter wave of hurt washing through her._ I can't believe he thinks he could just _help_ me like that. How typically arrogant.

_After a few seconds of watching Derek, she was surprised that he had yet to look at her. He had pretty much been stalking her all morning—he always knew just how to irritate her, didn't he?—and the fact that he was ignoring her annoyed her almost as much as the barely hidden worry in his gaze. But now he was scrutinizing something in front of him, apparently forgetting her. She followed his line of sight, only to be met with that same stuffed bear, only a few yards away now. Her mind jumbled for a moment, confused by the unexpected sight. When the stuffed monstrosity with the stylishly clad legs was almost in front of them, Derek gave a nod as if confirming a thought. _

_Then the bear was plopped unceremoniously into the chair on Derek's left, accompanied by the announcement, "For Marti," before Kendra, too, dropped into a chair._

_Casey felt a miniscule jolt of real shock at the sudden appearance of the blonde, and she blinked warily for several seconds, waiting for the girl's bubbly concern to converge on her. But Kendra continued talking to Derek, as though Casey weren't even there._

"_You would not _believe_ the line to get into F.A.O. Schwartz. I _hate_ tourist season." Casey's brow furrowed, and she absently wondered if the other girl had noticed she had only _been_ here during tourist season. But mostly she was just wondering if Kendra were seriously that shallow, that she would complain about traffic rather than pestering a waiting girl in need._

"_And then I had to take, like, two cabs to get here. I mean, hello, it's not that far. But I figured I could take it from your list; I mean, you have _so_ much to deal with. And I know how Marti gets when she thinks you've forgotten her," Kendra added with a grin. Casey was still stuck on her previous sentence._

How stressed _Derek_ is?_ She repeated incredulously in her head, allowing the first strains of real emotion flit across her face since the day before. _Excuse me? _Setting her jaw, she took a deep breath and turned her head, hell bent on being the bigger person. And showing Kendra how much of a bitch she was being._

"_Hello, Kendra," she intoned, just a bit too forcefully after hours of monotone. Derek glanced up, shocked, but she ignored him as she stared down his ex._

"_Oh, hey, Casey," Kendra replied pleasantly, turning to acknowledge her. "How are you?"_

_Casey couldn't identify her tone—probably from ignoring Derek's attempts at conversation for several hours—so she couldn't tell if Kendra were being stupidly oblivious or if that were some roundabout way of asking about Casey's dad. Confusion melted away the irritation that had allowed Casey's sudden interest, and she felt bereft._

"_Um . . ." she stalled for a second, brain working furiously, but still not up to par._

"_Have you eaten yet?" Kendra interrupted before it could get embarrassing, this time unmistakably concerned._

"_No," Derek butted in firmly before Casey could begin to consider how to get around it._

"_Great," Kendra intoned, already on her feet. And before Casey knew it, Kendra was back, shoving a bowl of bad oatmeal into her hands and ordering her to eat. _

_Casey managed to force down the occasional bite, ignoring Kendra's attempts to draw her into conversation with varying levels of success. There was just something about watching Kendra babble at Derek, though, that made Casey want to speak up and regain his attention, unwanted though it was. _

_Which is how she ended up in her current predicament. Derek had made some comment or another, after listening to Kendra prattle on about the joys of her new salon, about how there probably wasn't any hope for him at this point. Kendra had laughed and brushed the hair off his forehead, teasingly wrinkling her nose and making a joke about "the hospital chair look."_

_Casey, unable to take it anymore, had made a comment about how Derek _would_ think of himself at a time like this, and he wasn't the one making all these great sacrifices, and she hadn't washed her hair in two days. Before she knew it, Derek and Kendra had converged on her, and she wondered with a sinking stomach if that hadn't been their plan all along. Dismissing the paranoia, she had tried to evade them to no avail. She knew her fate was set when Kendra's eyes zoned in on the rumpled bags beneath her chair; even before Kendra had perked up and leaned forward to fish them from their prison with a triumphant grin._

_She here she was, sitting in a stolen chair from the lobby in the middle of the tiny bathroom, contemplating maledictions as Kendra massaged shampoo into her scalp. Casey didn't even want to know where that had come from, and would rather not think of the tiny dirty sink she would have to stick her head in to get rid of it. She simply glowered at Kendra's oblivious reflection in the mirror and let her resentment fester. She wondered briefly at the fact that Derek hadn't managed to scrounge up an actual shower for her to use, but the thought was merely a passing annoyance. All her ire was currently focused on the blonde Barbie torturing her scalp._

_As Kendra somehow managed to rid her hair of shampoo—using a complex system involving the sink, a McDonalds cup and a shotglass that Casey didn't even attempt to understand—and moved on to the conditioner, Casey wondered how she could ever have possibly liked the girl. By the time she had stuck Casey's head under the hand-drier, the brunette was wondering whether or not violence in a hospital was a moot point._

_When the lack of tugging to her hair follicles finally drew her from her somewhat sadistic plans, she was shocked and offended to find Kendra riffling through her purse, muttering, "Makeup, makeup, makeup."_

_Casey's grim smile was satisfied as she watched the fruitless search; in her hurry to leave she had left it on the vanity in her dad's guest room._

_But as she caught site of Kendra's already ransacked bag, and the haphazard range of beauty products strewn on the miniscule ledge, Casey's smugness faded and she suddenly squeezed her eyes shut in a childish attempt to block her current situation._

"_What's this?" she heard Kendra ask, and Casey let the blue reappear, reluctantly turning towards the spot where the shuffling noises had stopped._

_Kendra had pulled two familiar strips of paper from Casey's bag, and was now studying them much too closely._

"_These are for today," she said unnecessarily, glancing up at Casey with pursed lips. "Two hours," she added after a moment, talking more to herself than brunette. "Hmm." Then she marched obstinately over to Casey and pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair in one fell swoop. As the other girl had just pulled it back—much less sloppily than Casey's original style, but casually nonetheless—Casey found the action rather unnecessary._

"_Ouch," she complained, rubbing her tender scalp as she glared at Kendra in the mirror. Kendra ignored her, seemingly lost in her own world. "I'm not going to that," Casey pointed out, pain welling up in her as she suddenly remembered her father, and the horrible event that had destroyed their outing._

"_Of course you are," Kendra answered, somehow still perky even when so obviously distracted._

"_No, Kendra," Casey growled, batting her hand away from what was now a poofy mess of brown hair. "I was supposed to go with my dad and—"she cut herself off before that idea could catch up with her. "I'm not going." She repeated stubbornly. Kendra grabbed the brush from its perch on the hand drier and began attacking Casey's frizz, shaking her head as she did so. Casey huffed, annoyed at being ignored, and still bitter from the seemingly endless torture. "Why would you think I want to sit alone in a dark theater and be reminded of—"_

"_You won't be alone," Kendra cut her off, and Casey's attention fixed on the other girl's face. Was Kendra seriously _using her pain_ to get free Broadway tickets? Absolutely unbelievable._

_Kendra glanced down at Casey's murderous expression and rolled her eyes. "Derek's taking you," she said, as if it were a foregone conclusion._

"_Derek?" Casey hissed. He was the last person she wanted to . . . . "Why would I ever go with _Derek_? That's completely ridiculous! I mean . . . ."_

_Kendra sighed and put the brush down, leaning down to look at Casey in a way a little too patronizing for someone with such a low IQ._

"_Casey," she said firmly, as if Casey were simply a misbehaven child. "Your dad spent a lot of time coming up with something you'd love, and you're going to enjoy it. With Derek," she added after a moment. Then she straightened, as if that had solved everything. "Now, I'm pretty sure this is the only thing you have to wear," she said, grabbing the two shopping bags from the floor and riffling through them. Casey cringed at the genuine, "ooh," the escaped Kendra's lips as she found the outfit Casey had been so pleased with. But though Kendra eventually got her into the casually chic dress and detailed flats, Casey suddenly hated the thing. After all, if not for that stupid outfit and that stupid lunch and that stupid Kendra, her Dad wouldn't be dying right now. _

_But Kendra seemed to be aware of none of this as she grabbed the now-flat layers framing Casey's face, twisting them expertly and deftly securing them with a single bobby pin at the back of Casey's head. Then, giving a satisfied nod and a too-pleased grin, she stalked over to the counter, brushed the collection of hair and beauty supplies into her bag with one sweep of her hand, and grabbed Casey's elbow on her way to the door, dragging the unwilling beauty victim behind her._

_Derek was leaning restlessly against the wall that jutted between the waiting room and the hall that lead to the maternity ward. Casey glared at him, too, but he didn't notice, staring distractedly around the room, brow furrowed. He looked up only a moment before they reached him, tipped off by the resolute click of Kendra's heels as she marched her prisoner across the room._

"_Come on," Kendra told him, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him along as well. "You'll be late."_

"_Late?" Derek asked, still confused by his unexpected trip to the door. "To what?" he asked, a satisfying hint of annoyance creeping into his tone._

"The play_, silly," Kendra stated matter-of-factly as she pushed him toward the revolving glass. Derek glanced once from Kendra to Casey, assessing their expressions and the situation surprisingly quickly. Swallowing whatever excuse he was about to give, he quickly pushed through the doors and, after a moment, a suddenly resigned Casey followed his lead. Even three hours with Derek in which to contemplate her misery was better than the alternative. She worked to let the earlier detachment consume her as Derek made several attempts to hail a cab; her brain cooperated surprisingly well._

"_We need to cancel our flight," Casey realized dully several minutes later, as she was pushed unceremoniously into a bright yellow sedan by a much too motivated Derek. How unfortunate that he seemed to be wholly onboard with the plan. It was unbelievably fake, and her mouth curled sourly as she realized he was probably a key instigator in the kidnapping attempt. She wouldn't put it past him plant the tickets where he knew Kendra would find them._

"_I did," Derek assured as he climbed in after her. "Well, Nora did. But it's done. We don't leave til next week."_

"_Oh," Casey muttered, and turned to stare obstinately out the window. She heard Derek sigh, but didn't bother to acknowledge him. As he leaned forward to give the cabbie their destination, Casey resolutely decided that, one way or another, she would make life as miserable for him as he was making it for her._

**XCXCXCXC**

At long last! Another chapter! My excuses are more legit this time (a bit), but I'm not going to bother. I've really missed this story, though, and hope I can write more soon. Almost as much as I hope there's still someone reading it.


	15. Bubbling Over

Okay, in this chapter Casey takes the attitude past selfish moping and on to- who knows. She's tormenting Derek, so of course everything goes to a whole new level. But somehow, I think you won't hate me for it. Or maybe I'm just flattering myself. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters, tv shows, rights, cities, whatever.**

**xxxxxxxxxxx**

_Derek was just about fed up with Casey. Truth be told he was well past fed up and just trying not to admit it, because that would mean he was sticking around out of obligation. And Derek had done quite enough of the responsible act to last him a lifetime. _

_Either way, he was almost certain she was doing it on purpose. There was a very large difference between a self-centered obnoxious Casey and a self-righteous obnoxious Casey. Casey pretty much sucked at hiding her motives._

"_I'm going to take a _real_ shower," she tossed disdainfully over her shoulder, as if she hadn't just dropped her purse right on his foot. Case in point._

"_Whatever," he dismissed, well aware of how annoyed he sounded. She gave a self satisfied sniff and disappeared into her room._

_Apparently, she was holding him personally responsible for making her attend the play. As if he wanted to sit through a two and a half hour dance-fest and listen to her whine. Why was it that she never looked at the facts when she was blaming him for something?_

_He kicked her purse across the small living room, hoping to make himself feel better. He didn't even care when her wallet tumbled out and her phone skidded across the floor, coming to a stop under the armchair. _

_He could be patient as hell when Casey was genuinely distraught, but the second she turned into _this_ he gave himself free range on her stuff._

_Which is all he would do, he admitted to himself. As bitchy as she'd been, she was still freaked out about her dad, and he couldn't dump on her when she was so torn up._

_Growling in frustration, Derek grabbed some fresh clothes from his suitcase and trudged off to the spare bathroom. _

_He had hopes that a hot shower would soothe his aggravation, but all that seemed to happen was cloudy vision from an overabundance of steam. He just couldn't concentrate on anything but frustration, and more than once he found himself frowning at the wall, as if Casey would feel it through the intervening plaster._

_Five minutes later he was dressed and back to work, gathering together anything that might be useful in case they spent the night again._

Please don't come to that_, he groaned to himself. _More than two hours of sleep would be nice.

_He glanced up as the sound of Casey's hairdryer cut off, tensing for the inevitable. Two minutes later she swept superiorly from the room, looking clean and together and—_eff!—_hot as hell._

Did she wear that on accident or is she taking this 'torture Derek' thing to a whole new level?_ he wondered, more frustrated than ever._

"_I guess it's too much to expect _you_ to make dinner." She gave a long-suffering sigh that was much too snide to be believed._

_Brushing off the natural response—_'like I'd _cook_'—_or even the fitting, '_so sorry you don't have _another _meal to refuse', _Derek gestured grandly to the kitchen._

"_Feel free."_

_Hey, he wasn't perfect._

"_Typical," Casey shot back, making a point to look offended. "Always thinking of yourself."_

_Derek wondered if she was grasping at straws now, or if she had been living in some bizarre alternate universe for the past two days._

_He made himself shrug it off._

"_And you don't even care," Casey continued, hell-bent on digging herself into a hole. "What was I thinking, expecting anything else? I thought that, maybe, since I'm dealing with so much right now—"_

"_Sorry," Derek interrupted, not meaning it in the least. But he thought he had put some feeling in it._

_Casey looked at him for a long moment, before crossing her arms. Her false ire wasn't coming up with a response and it obviously irked her._

"_Let's get back to the hospital," she huffed after a few minutes of coming up empty. "Something might have happened while we were out being_ frivolous_, and I really doubt Kendra has the capacity to handle it. Even if she hasn't already perky-ed the nursing staff to death."_

_Derek felt anger flash through him. It was one thing to be rude to him—he was used to it, by now, and pretty sure he deserved it somehow, if not at this moment—but he found he was kind of mad at her for digging into Kendra, especially when his ex had been so unexpectedly helpful. Just because Casey didn't like it was no reason to badmouth the blonde._

"_Don't start," he told her, and though he simply meant it as a command, it came out too bitingly. He couldn't bring himself to soften the words, and simply gazed at Casey with a stony expression._

"_Oh, I'm sorry," she said, sounding anything but. "Did I_ offend _you? How could I be so selfish, to focus on myself at a time like this? I mean, my dad's only _dying,_" she exaggerated, from incense or real fear he couldn't tell, "but if Kendra took time out of her_ busy schedule _to_ force _me away from my father, who really cares?"_

_The guilt trip was working a little, despite how obvious she was being about it, but Derek was still pissed at how unfair she was being._

"_Kendra took time out of her _busy schedule_," he shot back, slightly less evocatively than Casey, "to help you. Because she was _worried_. So yell at me all you want, but don't turn this around on her."_

_He wasn't quite sure where this feeling of protection for Kendra came from, but it melted away when Casey muttered, "Figures you'd take her side," in a barely concealed tone of hurt._

"Casey," _he ground out, exasperated with her whole attitude. "I'm not taking her side, okay? Just . . . _lay off_ for a minute."_

_She glanced up to study his face, expression petulant. Then she was blinking rapidly in shock, her anger unexpectedly evaporating, leaving her looking almost vulnerable. Which only made him annoyed with himself._

Nice job not taking it out on her, _he berated internally._

"_You're right," Casey murmured breathily, astounded, before sucking in a lungful of air and glancing down to study the floor._

_That threw him more than her sudden personality change. At least he was used to those._

"What_?_"

"_I'm not being fair," she murmured, voice becoming distinctly wobbly. He felt fear jolt through him._

"_No!" he almost shouted, reaching one hand out as if to stop her tears. "No, it's fine! Just, just don't . . . ."_

_It wasn't exactly what he intended, but he still felt relieved as she glanced up and gave a shaky laugh._

"_Still can't stand those tears, huh?" she joked half-heartedly, water slowly receding from her eyes. He gave an embarrassed grin in response, not quite managing the casual smirk he would have liked. He was still baffled that she had dropped forty-eight hours worth of bitching in less than thirty seconds, but Casey didn't seem to notice his confusion._

"_You're right, Derek," she repeated, sounding surprisingly steady for such an admission. "I'm not being fair," she added again softly._

"_Well, your dad, and . . ." he trailed off, not quite sure how to be understanding without sounding like an idiot, which he seemed to manage anyway. If there was one thing that never failed to throw him off, it was Casey in a freak-out._

"_No," she continued, bent on this self-rapprochement_.

Crap_._

"_It was really sweet of Kendra to do that. I'm being a jerk." She stopped for a moment, eyes flickering to him and back to the ground. With a deep breath, Casey took the plunge: "I've been a jerk to you, too."_

_He wondered if his head could explode from shock. He managed to recover himself fairly easily, though, considering._

"_Yeah, okay," he muttered quickly, hoping she would drop it. Much as he loved Casey admitting he was right, it wasn't quite as sweet under the circumstances. And the absolute last thing he wanted at the moment was a heartfelt thank you._

_He got one anyway._

"_Thanks, Derek," Casey said, glancing up at him with a hesitant expression. "You've been really great," she added, a warm smile hinted in the faint curve of her mouth. He couldn't do anything but shrug lamely._

_She let out a breath, and, after a moment, stepped forward impulsively, pausing to watch his reaction before she finished the movement. _

_Derek assessed the situation for a moment—_well, it's not like I'll mind, or anything; might as well give her what she wants—_before rolling his eyes and halfheartedly raising his arms. A genuine smile flitted across her features as she took the final step and wrapped her arms around his neck in a friendly hug. Glad of the averted outburst, he humored her by lightly patting her on the back, quirking his mouth ruefully and trying to ignore how content he felt. Which was ridiculous, because stupid little crush or no, he could usually will away obnoxious feelings like that._

_Casey, for her part, obviously felt no such feelings; this kind of hug was something she doled out willingly to nearly anyone with the least provocation. And aside from that, Derek knew she simply needed some human comfort at the moment. _

_So he was slightly surprised when she absently sighed in her throat and rose to her tiptoes. He had thought she was in enough emotional turmoil to dismiss her attraction to him; she had certainly put on a good show of ignoring him all weekend, and not the kind that hinted she was actually more aware of him than usual. And judging by her barely retracted unrighteous indignation, he figured she would stay a little wary of him for a day or two. _

_Still, Casey was obviously finding Derek's presence soothing, because she hugged him closer and turned her face into his shoulder. Her nose skimmed his collar to brush along the exposed skin of his neck._

_He knew it was a bad idea the moment he felt her arms tighten across his back, even as he instinctively tightened his own around her waist. She seemed to realize it, too, an instant later; he felt her arms quickly slacken and drag, almost hesitantly, back across his shoulders in retreat. _

_Despite a vague feeling of rejection and an even vaguer feeling of moral reprehension, he couldn't help but focus on the way her fingers trailed along his biceps as she slowly lowered them. His own arms were barely halfway back to safety, and when he let his gaze flicker to her face—eyes watching him through uncertain lashes and teeth tugging at her lip in a shy and confused sort of embarrassment that was so unlike the Casey he always saw—he knew he couldn't make it. His right hand impulsively tightened on her waist, fingers skimming the fabric at the end of her shirt; with his left hand he reflexively reached up to grab her neck, digits tangling in her hair and ghosting along her cheek, almost touching . . . . _

_Then, before she could grasp what was happening, he swooped in and kissed her. _

_Casey immediately stiffened in his arms, surprise and discomfit pinning her arms to her sides, the right one pressing awkwardly against Derek's left. Derek pulled her face up to better meet his, but Casey remained rigid. He lingered awkwardly, annoyingly unsure of how to proceed. _

_He had known—if he ever shot reason to hell and actually attempted something like this—that Casey wouldn't react like other girls might. Still, he had never been flat out rejected. He hadn't really considered the possibility (not that this action in itself was remotely thought out). But, combined with their precarious familial situation and the more concerning fact that he actually _cared _about her, the prospect was daunting._

_After an excruciatingly long moment in which Derek almost _regretted_ his actions, the firm but tentative pressure of Derek's lips seemed to course through her senses; Derek thought he felt a shudder ripple through her, lightning shooting up her spine and diffusing through her body, electrifying her stiff pose and leaving her limp. Then her arms were around his neck; resting across his shoulders; trailing down his chest; and her hands tangled in his hair before darting to grasp his face, pulling him closer, closer, as one hand slide down to rest on his stomach, her erratic heartbeat tingling through his chest._

_The apartment, the hospital, the earlier irritation . . . forgotten. Even the sight of Casey's eyes welling; the unwanted burden of responsibility; that clawing feeling of desperate helplessness Derek couldn't seem to escape; . . . gone. Derek felt secure again, back on familiar territory. He knew this, he could handle this. And the sense that Casey had finally fallen to the inevitable just made it that much more . . . filling._

_He blocked out his brain and lost himself in sensation._

*~*~*

The familiar sensation swirled through his mouth and Derek's eyes drifted closed in response.

"Mhm." The sound was barely audible in the back of Casey's throat.

It registered uncomfortably with her stepbrother, and his eyes flashed open automatically as he hurriedly put the wineglass back on the bar.

"Next," he ordered, eyes darting sideways to make sure Casey hadn't noticed. Her attention was fully focused on the Cabernet Sauvignon in her glass.

"Sauvignon Blanc," the waiter announced as he poured Derek a token amount.

"Thanks," Derek responded as he lifted his glass once more.

"How is it?"

Derek was surprised to find that Casey, waiting for her next drink, had turned to watch him enjoy his.

"Good," he recovered. "But airy."

Her lips pursed ruefully. "Not a good choice for an evening wedding. Darkness and dinner tend to overpower light wines."

He quirked an eyebrow, watching her with some amusement. "It's too feminine for me anyways. Who knows how I'll make it through the Champagne."

Casey rolled her eyes and smiled at him. Derek couldn't help but grin in response.

It had been remarkably easy to work with Casey over the past few days. He'd thought the tux fitting would have sent her running, but since her (failed) foray into wedding bands they'd been pretty civil. Sometimes more than civil. Casey was being downright friendly, and it was throwing Derek off. After many hours of useless self-examination he had decided to roll with it, and the past week and a half had been strangely relaxing.

He had missed casual conversation with Casey. And strangely enough, getting to know her again was giving him a reprieve from all those relentless memories. It allowed him to focus on the now again, which was something he desperately needed.

_Except for when she makes noises like that, _he amended as Casey retreated into her next sample, making the same, unconscious noise.

More unbidden, previously buried memories assailed him, and Derek tried very hard to forget the fact that she made noises when she kissed, too.

_Kendra makes noises_, he tried to distract himself. _Great noises. Sexy noises._

He glanced back over at Casey.

_Okay, I probably shouldn't be thinking about noises right now, regardless of who makes them._

"Next."

Nora drove them home an hour later, and she stayed surprisingly quiet during the thirty-minute drive. She also kept flashing these weird, relived/happy/confused looks between him and Casey, and Derek wondered how he had missed her astute moments. He didn't even know she had picked up on the cold tension that had been his and Casey's relationship over the past seven or so years. The fact that she was now picking up on the return of cordiality was a little shocking.

He didn't quite regret accepting his stepmother's offer to drive them to the winery. He just couldn't wrap his head around the idea that she was sort of involved in his life again. He hadn't realized how much he had blamed her—the family, really—for everything that had happened all those years ago. It was nice to let go, to remove the slight taint with which he always regarded his family. For the first time in a while, he felt wholly comfortable with Nora.

He glanced at Casey, catching the corner of her eye as she fruitlessly tried to engage her mother in conversation. His lips pulled faintly upward. In typical Casey fashion, she wasn't doing things halfway. If she decided to rebuild one bridge, countless others would invariably follow. Her eyes twinkled in response to the rueful admiration in his gaze, her mouth still caught up in babbling to her mother. She trailed off momentarily, a smile pulling at her lips; a few seconds later, Casey's eyes shifted back to the woman in the driver's seat as she seamlessly continued her easy chatter.

In the rearview mirror, Nora raised an eyebrow at her now-grown stepson, whose eyes were still trained on her oblivious daughter.

**ccvvvvcccvvvvccccvvvv**

Ah, another chapter. So one mystery (sort of) revealed, another mystery springing up. I'm planning on involving the family more soon (we'll see how that goes), and Kendra won't be gone for much longer. And—frabjous day!—I actually have quite a bit written for the end chapter of this story. So we'll just see how long it takes to get there. Thanks for sticking by me, those who have. You guys are amazing!

Let me know what you think.


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